


To Hold and Let Go

by andrean182



Series: To Hold and Let Go [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bathtub, Fluff, Imprisonment, M/M, Recovery, Smut, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, first aid is a cutie, nnh, shameless fluff, sixshot is a cutie, smut ensues, tags will be added as the story goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 42,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4065991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrean182/pseuds/andrean182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sixshot learns that some person is better than another, and he learns that there are some feelings that are more powerful than mere power. Your enemy can be your ally and your ally can be your enemy.</p><p>Rewritten version of Enam Puluh Satu. Currently in Chapter 8 (18 February 2018). Weekly update.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One - Part One (26/11/17)

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo I decided to rewrite this story, and also gave it a new title. A lot of thanks I give to you guys for sticking with me until now, giving me the spirit to continue, I didn’t know that this weird story of mine would get such reactions. I’m so grateful and flattered.
> 
> To be honest, I didn’t intend this story to be this long. I thought this story would run for only about 7-9 chapters. And this was originally intended so that I could see how much my English and writing skill has improved. It turned out to be quite surprising.
> 
> The rewritten version doesn’t change much, I only fixed a lot of typos, sentence structure, added some sentences, removed some, and fixed the plot. I also added one chapter, merged some, and removed a few. You can download the old version here if you want.
> 
> Hopefully the rewritten chapters will be up every 2 weeks, if college is kind enough not to choke me again. The rewritten chapters' titles are in English.
> 
> Thank you again and I hope you continue to enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it.

The room was dark. First Aid couldn’t see anything clearly, except the curtains on the window frames.

He could only hide in a small corner of the medbay, gripping his legs tightly with his back to the wall, optics trying hard not to look at the door as he waited for the battle outside to cease. The sound of guns being fired filled his audials, making him fear whatever was going to happen. The moonlight from one of the window fell right on the door, right on where on the other side the battle was happening. He kept his grip on his legs, trying not to start shivering.

It was a bit curious why the Decepticons would attack the Protectobots HQ. It was located in the middle of a human city, yes, but they couldn’t let the humans help them. The Cons were too dangerous, and the casualties would be too much. Besides, the Cons beat them on numbers. They needed the other Autobots. It would be a while before they arrived here.

He was cleaning up the medbay when the attack happened, and now, he was trapped and couldn’t help his gestalt.

A loud explosion caught himself off-guard. Looking at the door, he was glad that it still was able to hold whatever caused the explosion.

 _“Aid, are you still in the medbay?!”_ Hot Spot called him through the gestalt bond. He could feel him holding up a Decepticon in front of the hallway to the medbay.

_“Yes! What are we going to do?! The other Autobots haven’t come here yet!”_

A loud explosion echoed away from the hallway and he whimpered.

_“Is any of you hurt?!”_

_“We’re fine, Aid!”_ Groove told him in that easy tone of his. “ _Hold up, Aid! I’m still trying to get your weapons! The cons are busting our quarters, too!”_

Hot Spot then warned him. _“Watch up, Aid! A con is going to the medbay! I can’t hold him!”_

First Aid panicked and gasped.

_“Who?!”_

The door then suddenly blasted open. First Aid whimpered, shivering. He didn’t dare look up, the sight of big legs on the top of his vision convinced him so. However, when nothing happened, he dared himself to just get a small peek and he looked at the door, trying to make up who the uninvited visitor was, but suddenly he regretted doing so.

It was that six-changer of the Decepticons.

And he saw him.

He didn’t listen to Hot Spot’s screams for him to run through the bond, nor the sound of the other Autobots coming from the windows. He stared right at him.

And he stared back.

Then he walked closer with those blazing red optics of him still staring into his blue visor.

First Aid was terrified of the big Decepticon coming near him. He scrambled back, unable to process anything to do, anything, except to stay back from that weapon of mass destruction. He didn’t even _dare_ to throw anything at him, in fear he’d antagonise him and making him think of him as a threat and decided to shoot him and, and…

“Stay away!”

He didn’t listen—why would he—to his scream. It made him more terrified when the Decepticon stood up right in front of him. His frame was trembling; he couldn’t do anything except trying to be smaller than he already was.

“Please stay away…”

Then he fell. The con fell into his front, and First Aid screamed as blue fluid of blood washed his helm. He scrambled back uselessly, trying to press himself to the wall more, holding up the sides of his helm with his hands and turned off his optics. Sixshot clawed his digits onto his pedes. Then a shoot happened. And another one. He screamed again.

“Aid?”

Knowing that voice, he stopped screaming and looked up. It was Groove, holding a prototype weapon from Wheeljack that he saw a few days ago and the medic’s own gun.

“It’s better now. He’s dead.” He threw his weapon to First Aid. First Aid caught it with his still-trembling hands and stared at Sixshot. There’s a hole in his shoulder, and one near his spark. He couldn’t see any lights glowing from his spark; he was dead.

“Come on,” Groove said. “we still have Cons to shoot.” Then he left. The shooting from outside the medbay then slowly ceased.

First Aid stood up slowly, still trembling, with gun in hand. He stared at it, thinking whether he should join the others or go hide in his room until any one of them fetched him. He was a _medic_ , for Primus’ sake, he wasn’t meant to _kill…_

The big con under him twitched, meaning that he was still alive.

Surprised, he gasped and stayed back, fingers tight on the gun. He pointed his gun, prepared to shoot him again in the head, but stopped when he saw a light peeked out from his spark chamber. A faint light.

He stopped and pull back his gun. He was a medic; he wasn’t meant to kill.

First Aid couldn’t just stare at an injured mech and do nothing. It was against his nature.

But it _was_ an enemy. A Con who had killed maybe a million in his existence. A weapon of mass destruction.

Something deep in his spark told him to repair this mech.

_“First Aid, where are you?!”_

_“I left him on the medbay. He’s fine now.”_

First Aid ignored the battering on the bond. Blades and Streetwise now joined them.

What should he do? He couldn’t repair this mech, but he couldn’t just leave him either.

_“Aid?! For Primus’ sake please answer me!”_

First Aid twitched and answered the bond.

_“I-I’m here. I’m s-still on the medbay. I need to do something.”_

He didn’t hear the answer. He was busy trying to move the enormous frame to a nearby berth.

It took him some time to drag him away from near the door to the closest berth. His frame was a very heavy one, and First Aid was just tall as his lower chest. His mask and his optics were broken, shattered from the fall.

He plugged him into a spark-support machine and cleaned him from any blood in his frame. The hole near his spark and his shoulder would regenerate by self-repair. He closed the hole using a bandage, because he could think of no other choice.

For now, there’s nothing more he could do than just wait. He looked once more to the still frame on the berth, then headed off the medbay.


	2. Two (10/12/17)

It was dark in the night. No one was up. They were all tired from repairing the HQ, organising things, and making the living room more lively again. Hot Spot awoke in the middle of the dark, feeling a headache coming. He gripped his head and shifted on the berth, trying to sleep again.

Of course, with his frame felt tired and achy, he couldn’t just go back to sleep.

He sat up, still gripping his head. His hands went for the drawer, looking for the datachips Ratchet gave them in case of headaches. Actually, they were inhibitors, used to force him to sleep. Hot Spot didn’t use them often because they tended to make his head ache when he woke up, but maybe for tonight, he’d make an exception. Especially if he couldn’t deal with a headache in the middle of the night.

However, he found none.

Growling in slight frustration, he lit the lamp on the nightstand and looked for it once again, and found none.

Weird, usually he kept them here. Or maybe he ran out of it?

He sighed, and went to the door. He opened it slowly, trying to not make any noises and disturb the others, and suddenly saw a shadow moved past him without warning.

 _What was that?_ He thought, moved back a few steps.

He didn’t believe in ghosts; there must be some explanations for it. However, after some stories with Optimus Prime, Jazz, and the twins, he began to be at least aware of their existence.

He opened the more a little bit wider, and saw someone tip-toeing.

The hallway, fortunately, was bright enough so that he could follow the shadow of someone walking past Groove’s room. Judging by the paint colour, he guessed it was First Aid.

_What’s First Aid doing at this time of night?_

Deciding that he might investigate this—and relieve the headache by thinking of something—he opened the door fully, then closed it behind him, and followed the medic, trying to be as silent as possible, given his larger frame.

Perhaps the medic had the same problem as himself. Perhaps he was going to the medbay to get himself some inhibitors too.

Or _maybe_ this was his chance to get an actual peek at the medbay.

The medic had been hiding something from them, and he was sure it had something to do with what was in the medbay. It wasn’t his place to do an investigation like this, but when it concerned his teammates, he was the one in charge.

_Damn, now I’m overthinking things. Oh wait, sorry._

Optimus wouldn’t be amused at him saying such bad word.

First Aid hadn’t allowed any of them to enter the medbay. _Any_ of them, even when Groove had a quite deep scar on the arm and it was rather alarming. The medic said he had the required equipment in his quarter.

Not even himself was allowed. _Sorry, Spot, but you wouldn’t fit._ _I’m reorganising the layout of the medbay,_ the medic said that when he exited the medbay, locking it.

Well, now was the time to find out.

He followed the medic and, he was right, he went straight to the medbay, unlocked the door, and went inside.

Hot Spot peeked on the barely opened door and found nothing quite suspicious. There were still medical berths, five of them (weren’t there six of them?), but in different places. The racks, equipment, and cabinets were also in different places than the last time he saw them. He followed his vision and analysed the room more thoroughly, and found out that two of the cabinets were arranged in a way that there would be a secluded area inside the medbay, one wouldn’t be able to see whatever was in the other side and vice versa.

That pretty much said it.

He pushed the door open, glad that it didn’t make any sound, and didn’t found the medic anywhere. He was probably inside that part of the medbay. There was only one lamp turned on, and it was in the secluded area so that the light was held back by the cabinets, so the room was very dim. Thanking himself for having a blue paint that became dark and blended perfectly with the wall, he moved to a spot behind one berth, crouching so that he could see what was on the other side, but still hid his large frame quite well.

There was First Aid, holding some equipment. There was also a berth, and there was… someone?

He focused his optics and, indeed, he saw someone.

That someone was green and white, with some dark grey. He appeared to be unconscious, or sleeping, he couldn’t figure out. First Aid was monitoring him with the scanner in his hand, then he put it away, and looked for something.

So First Aid was secretly operating on someone? Why didn’t he just tell them? They wouldn’t mind if he did.

But who was it?

His thoughts stopped when he saw the medic exited the secluded area. The medic then went straight to the door and, thank Primus, didn’t close it. He heard some footsteps on the stairs, then he heard the sound of the living room lamps being turned on.

Good, the medic didn’t see him. It was his chance!

He stood up, and walked slowly to the area.

_Really, if Aid’s just fixing someone, I wouldn’t say no t—_

Hot Spot gasped quite audibly in surprise in the quiet room. He moved closer and restarted his optics to confirm what he was seeing. First Aid was fixing a _Decepticon_? There was no denying that red symbol on the unconscious mech, that big, red, imposing, utterly _scary_ red symbol on the chest of an equally _big, imposing, utterly scary Decepticon._

First Aid had to be kidding!

The Con was _big_. Hot Spot would probably just stand until his neck. And he was fully armoured too, in his wing-like thingies on his shoulders, his hands—were those paws?!—and legs. His chest, shoulder, and upper leg was bandaged, though, but even those didn’t make him less scary. And he was hooked into a lot of machines, one of them he could recognise as a life-support machine. The bandage on his chest was opened, maybe First Aid was operating on his spark—spark?!

He looked to his chest, and saw a faint light, too faint for a healthy spark to pulse. So the Con was dying? Was it a good thing?

Despite how scary the Con was, he had no idea who was him. And the idea unnerved him. _Who is this guy? I’ve never seen him._ He had a Con on his HQ’s medbay, and he didn’t know _anything_ about him? What if he could _destroy the entire HQ in one shoot?_ Why did Aid put his weapon _in the same room, just_ _a little bit beyond his arm’s reach?!_

Primus, what was happening?

 _Calm down, Hot Spot. It doesn’t help when one gets over-reactive. So we have a Con here, we… we’ll just have to tell the_ Ark _’s Autobots to handle things, right? …Right? Especially if the Con’s as big as this…_

Wait a minute, it was that Con he held back that day! The day when the Cons attacked the HQ. He did quite some damage to the walls and furniture, but he didn’t shoot at anyone. He didn’t even wave his gun at him! That red gaze still unnerved him, though, even now with his optics grey.

Suddenly, he heard the living room lamps turned off, and someone walking upstairs. He cursed silently, apologised to himself, took a few inhibitors he needed just on one of open racks, and went back to the spot he had been hiding before.

He had to speak to First Aid about this.

While the medic was doing something to the mysterious Con, Hot Spot silently exited the medbay, and went to his own room, leaving the medic to his devices _and the Con’s mercy._

 _No, Spot, the Decepticon is unconscious. He can’t harm anyone._ He told himself when he took one inhibitor and lay on the berth.

He couldn’t sleep after that, even after he heard ever-so-slight steps of the ambulance retreating to his own room.

First thing in the morning, he had to talk about this.


	3. Three (24/12/17)

_“You’re keeping him as your patient?!”_ Blades asked him loudly, his spinning rotors vibrated the voice slightly. _“After all he’d done?!”_

First Aid only looked down to the medbay floor, and to Hot Spot’s pedes.

“Although he’s a Decepticon,” Hot Spot said, matter-of-factly. “he didn’t attack us. He was just coming through me.”

_“Still he’s a Decepticon! Why would you want to keep a Decepticon near you, let alone make one your patient?!”_

Hot Spot sighed heavily. He put his hands over his face and grumbled to himself “Primus please help us.”

 _“You’re lucky none of us got hurt!”_ Blades barked from the commlink, having to patrol for the morning with Streetwise.

Groove asked, _“What should we do now, Spot? We can’t just have him there. I say we hand him over to the Ark and hold him captive before he wakes up.”_

Hot Spot looked to First Aid. “How long have you been fixing him?”

“I… since the attack two weeks ago… t-there was a hole near his spark a-and one on his s-shoulder…” First Aid paused, nervous.

Hot Spot waited for him to continue, his face set in a stern expression, despite the uneasiness in his chest.

“I just cleaned up his f-frame and gave him a quick bandage... I took off his damaged mask… t-the holes would self-repair… I-I think…”

Looking at the inactive Decepticon, Hot Spot studied him. This one, Sixshot, was one of Megatron’s best soldier, he remembered reading the Decepticon’s entry on the _Ark_ ’s database. The one with six different alt modes, with a rather obvious name. And he’s _big_ , bigger than Optimus Prime. The human bandage on his chest and shoulder made him rather less frightening, though.

By the reading on the medical devices, he showed no signs of waking up soon. His spark reading is stable, though it was still lower than normal. Maybe it would take more time for him to heal up. That prototype weapon of Wheeljack really did a good job. Even when he’s awake and functional, Hot Spot was sure he would still need time to recover and be like his previous self. “So this is why you look like you’re hiding something from us these few weeks, trying us not to get into the medbay.”

First Aid looked down, ashamed. “I-I’m sorry.”

Sighing, Hot Spot sat on the available chair. _“Blades, Streetwise, continue your patrol. Groove, focus on your pursuit. I’ll talk to Aid. We will all have a talk later tonight.”_ He turned to the ambulance after he heard two okays and a grumble. “Have you told anyone about him?”

The medic looked up, “N-no.”

Hot Spot nodded. “Why did you fix him anyway?”

“I-I'm a medic.” First Aid looked away. “I-I feel like it's my responsibility to f-fix and helping injured people.” _No matter what faction they are_ left unspoken.

Hot Spot wasn't sure if he could agree with that.

f

“He did n-nothing to harm me. We both j-just stared to each other that time and... and... Groove hit him with Wheeljack’s prototype weapon. He fell forward. I screamed.”

Hot Spot facepalmed in frustration. “I don't know whether I should agree with you're doing what’re you tasked with or I cannot find a suitable response to what you’ve just told me.”

“D-Do you think I'm doing the wrong choice for… f-fixing him up?”

The fire truck tensed, looking up at him. “Well, I think simply, no, you’re not. But to make things more complicated...” he then stared at the inactive Decepticon. “he's the enemy, and not just one, but a weapon of mass destruction...”

First Aid followed his brother’s gaze; he looked peaceful in deep recharge. With his mask off, his face was exposed to the free air, making him even more vulnerable than he was. Hot Spot didn’t know much about the Decepticons, much less someone who he rarely met in the battlefield, but from the archives about this mech, he meant trouble, and certain death to whom he despised. He tore his gaze away and looked up to the medic.

“Aid?”

The medic didn't look up.

Standing up, Hot Spot put one hand on First Aid’s shoulder. “I think we better get going. Best not to tell this to any other Autobot. We'll talk about this later.”

First Aid nodded, and Hot Spot brought him to the door. The injuries would self-repair, he kept reminding himself.

Looking back once more, First Aid then finally closed the medbay door.

* * *

Blades looked at him with anger. “I still can’t believe you’re keeping him as your patient.”

First Aid looked away, holding up his shame. “B-but he’s still injured.”

“Stop it, Blades. I myself still cannot believe him either.” Hot Spot stopped. “Groove, lower the TV volume, please?”

Groove did as he told. “I thought we were going to talk about this in the medbay.”

“I wouldn’t want to let any one of you near that Con. We’ll just talk about this here in the living room.”

First Aid was sitting on the new sofa, next to Hot Spot. Groove and Streetwise were on the next one. The clock showed 22.10, past their usual sleeping time. It was just morning since they discovered that First Aid had kept as patient a Decepticon. Blades was still angry at him, but not so with Hot Spot. Hot Spot knew he should be angry at First Aid to keep as patient a Decepticon, but he found himself couldn’t. Streetwise and Groove felt worried.

Hot Spot didn’t know what was worse.

“So, you all already know what had happened here.” Hot Spot begins. “What important is—Groove, just turn off the TV, please.”

The motorcycle shrugged and turned off the TV.

“The important thing is we have to think what are we going to do with him being here.”

“I suggest that we _unplug_ his life-support machine or whatever it is and give him _back_ to the cons.” Blades said, still not bothering to sit down. “Or even _better_ , _hand_ him over to the Ark and _hold_ him captive. I mean, _why the frag_ would we _fix_ a Decepticon? They won’t even _bother_ to do that if we’re in their hands anyway.” He continued, looking at First Aid.

“Will you stop emphasising your sentences?” Streetwise growled at him.

“I can't help it.” Blades grumbled.

“I have to say that I... agree with Blades’ opinion. He's a con.” continued Streetwise. “But, ever heard Megatron coming back to pick up a con left behind? I heard big M won't do that. You've got to return by yourself or never return at all.”

“That is just rude.” Groove grumbled, then spoke. “But Sixshot is their supersoldier, right? I think Megatron would go back to rescue him.”

“But I think that won’t be the case. It has been two weeks and Megatron hasn’t come here yet. I think it's because his status as ‘supersoldier’ he had to come back by himself, to show that he really is super.” Hot Spot spoke, holding his chin in his left hand. “The Decepticon concept is hard to understand.”

Groove took a sip from what's left from his cube. “Who was his name again?”

“You don’t know his name?” Streetwise asked him. “He’s that guy who can transform to six different modes, right? He’s Sixshot, if I’m not mistaken. Mech’s got so many weapons to himself.”

Hot Spot crouched down and wiped his face with his hands.

“That prototype weapon of Wheeljack really took him a big hit. I-I haven't done a test on him yet, but I-I'm sure his frame won't break up and melt that easily.” First Aid spoke, still unable to look up.

“He’s a Phase Sixer.” Hot Spot said abruptly.

Everyone looked to Hot Spot.

“He’s a what?”

“A Phase Sixer. A very, _very_ powerful warrior. Their frame was created separately with a different metal combination, or even different kind of metal, and nearly impenetrable. Their sparks are One Point Percenter. Only 3 of them existed, as far as I know.”

Silence occurred among them. The fact was sinking fast in their processors. So First Aid was fixing a _grand_ weapon of mass destruction?

“I thought you knew that.”

Blades spoke up. “W-we know what a Phase Sixer is, but _he's_ a Phase Sixer? Dammit.”

First Aid looked down, unable to his even bigger shame.

“So… it's kinda like we’re fixing our own time bomb.” Groove muttered. “And now the countdown has begun.”

“You heard him, Aid?!” Blades shouted at First Aid. “Have you really heard him?!”

First Aid looked away. “I-I guess we have to do it. Hand him over to the Ark.”

“I have to say that I agree with Blades’ idea.”

“I know that you all will not agree with this,” Hot Spot spoke up, facing his team. He then looked away. “but I think that I support First Aid’s choice of fixing him. At least until he's conscious and able to walk again.”

Everyone looked up, both surprised and horrified. Their leader agreed on fixing a Decepticon?! Why on Cybertron would anyone do that? Even First Aid himself was horrified.

“Y-you what—?”

“Have you lost your fragging mind?!”

First Aid looked uneasy. Hot Spot continued. “I know that this sounds crazy, but I faced him by myself. He didn't fight me. I don't know why, but it had to me on purpose. I mean, it could mean that he wanted up not to realise that he’s sneaking around. But First Aid also proved me right. He told me that Sixshot didn't shoot him, nor harmed him in any way. In that in the medbay, they both just stared... didn't you, First Aid?”

First Aid kept quiet, looking away.

“Aid? Tell me that he’s wrong!” Blades shouted him, his sound was full of hope.

“It... it's right.” He huffed. “He didn't attack me. I back up Hot Spot’s words.”

Everyone couldn't bring themselves to answer.

“And really, I’d _hate_ to get into trouble with Optimus Prime right now, much less an argument.”

“Won’t this just make the problem bigger?!”

“It won’t if we kept quiet about it. We should’ve done it two weeks ago if we had wanted to hand him over.”

Streetwise and Groove felt uneasy. Blades felt annoyed and angry. He was thinking that his teammate, his brother, was betraying them. How could he bring himself to repair a Decepticon?! Why would he think to repair one? What was the reason behind this? Blades then broke the silence. “So, why? Just, why?”

First Aid didn't answer, he was looked down, thinking about leaving the room.

Hot Spot called him. “Aid? You also haven't told me why.”

“I-I think he deserve a second chance. I guess he is. After all he had done.” First Aid said without thinking.

“You give a con a second chance?!”

“I can’t help it! I-I guess he just is.” First Aid blurted.

No one answered. Everyone looked down.

“So,” Groove eventually spoke. “what do we do now?”

Hot Spot replied. “It’s why I brought you here.”

“If you agree on First Aid’s idea to fix him, I think we’ll then just let him do it.” Streetwise suggested.

“Whatever. I have a hard disk to defrag. Tell me in the morning.” Blades said, and he left the room.

First Aid didn’t feel any anger on Blades' side of the bond, only anxiety and confusion.

Groove and Streetwise didn’t react.

“I think we will keep him, until he’s able to walk. Any questions?” Hot Spot spoke up.

No one answered.

“If so, we are done here. You can return to your room.” Hot Spot then said to First Aid. “I hope you’re right.”

First Aid didn’t answer. Then everyone left, leaving him alone in the living room.

* * *

Blades entered the ‘secret area’ of the medbay, and saw Sixshot’s still frame laying in the medical berth. From what he saw, Sixshot wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon.

He felt angry to that Con. He doesn’t deserve any second chance, or whatever! He was a Con who killed millions and liked to do dirty job. Life and death were just toys to him. From here, it would be just a simple matter of unplugging the life-support cable to pave his way to Vector Sigma. He would die slowly, and feel how the people he killed felt when he was taking their lives.

But he saw First Aid when he was talking about Sixshot. It looked like he had hopes for Sixshot. Blades didn’t know why.

Sixshot looked peaceful in his inactivity. He didn’t look like a weapon of mass destruction that he was. He just looked like another Cybertronian, injured, helpless, and in need of medical assistance.

“Blades?”

Blades looked up, and saw First Aid was standing in the door.

Without a word, he left the medbay, leaving First Aid looking at him confusedly.


	4. Four (06/01/18)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blend G1 and IDW in this story (but it’s probably too late to tell you anyway).

Time passed.

This afternoon, he was working in the medbay. Even though he knew that it was the beginning of winter, he didn’t feel any good. His team were patrolling, and Hot Spot was ‘hanging out’ with Prowl. He was alone in the medbay.

He did not know how many times had he cleaned the Decepticon’s frame.

Sixshot recovered quickly. By the next 2 weeks, his spark began to stabilise itself. First Aid could still see a faint light when he changed the bandage, though, meaning that the hole itself hadn’t fully closed, but he was better. The one on the shoulder recovered faster, now only showing some scratches, as if the hole was never there.

Maybe that was because his frame was able to recover much more quickly than average mech. For now, Sixshot had yet to regain consciousness, and it was a good thing.

His team was… a mix of confusion and uncertainty. On one hand, they didn’t question Hot Spot’s decision, because their leader was a prodigy in making plans and decisions, much like his mentor, Prowl, and his rival, Onslaught, albeit he still needed more training. They weren’t sure what was it (or were they), but Hot Spot must have some reason. On the other hand, it wasn’t easy for them to just ignore the fact that there was a Decepticon Phase Sixer in their medbay because hey, not only it was just a freaking Decepticon, it was a fragging _Phase Sixer!_

Blades wasn’t fond of coming to the medbay, but always insisted that no one should go there alone—precautionary measure, he said. First Aid had to agree with that, although he often went to the medbay alone anyway. Groove deliberately tried not to have to go there. Every time he had to go there, he went skirmish and nervous. Streetwise, although acted like Sixshot was just another mech, didn’t like to have anything to do with him.

Hot Spot was… weird. Their oldest brother was just as nervous and cautious as the others, but First Aid could tell that he was interested. About what, he didn’t know, but Hot Spot never did things without some kind of reason.

Somehow, they managed to keep this as a secret. The other Autobots had no suspicion on them; they didn’t even know what they were hiding, there was no camera to their base, save one on the living room console. The Protectobots kept on patrolling, giving reports, being there when Optimus Prime, or Prowl, or Ratchet called them. Hot Spot still hung out with Prowl about formal things sometimes, with Ironhide about less formal things or training, and with Optimus if there was something about his team, or to just ‘chill’, as Groove said it.

However, First Aid couldn’t act like nothing happened.

He felt strange. It was like he should never talk about this to anyone. He felt strange near Sixshot. He also denied Ratchet’s call for once; he said he was tired and needed to rest, only to spend the night in the medbay. His teammates were worried that there was another thing with him, but he said he was fine.

Yes, he admitted it, Sixshot had a good-looking frame. And the colours fit him perfectly.

No! Bad First Aid!

He was his patient; he shouldn’t be thinking these kinds of things…

Or, _was_ he his patient?

Was he aiding the enemy? Fixing their time bomb? Giving him a second chance?

What had happened in his mind?

First Aid looked snow falling to the city outside the medbay window. Sixshot still showed no sign of waking up soon.

* * *

“Why can’t I go patrol, Spot?”

“Because it’s still early in the morning,” Hot Spot looked at him. “And I think you have to help someone more important.”

Behind his mask, First Aid frowned, looking away. “Sixshot’s fine. He doesn’t need help for now.”

“Not him. Blades.” Hot Spot said, sipping his cube. “He crashed a while ago and now he’s waiting in the medbay.”

An awkward silence followed them.

“I thought you knew.”

“Uh, I don’t?” First Aid snapped his mask back and put down his cube. “When… did he crash again?”

“Earlier this morning, he was ‘practising some moves’ just outside the city. Then I had to drag him here, just before you woke up.” Hot Spot answered. “Oh, anyway, I have to give these reports to dad—er, Optimus Prime. I’ll see you later.” Then he went away.

Wait, didn’t he give the reports yesterday?

* * *

Sixshot felt his systems online, slowly, painfully. Where _was_ he? His vision blurred, slowly focusing. His cringed a bit when the light was too much for his optics to handle, and he closed them again.

_What was that?_

He opened his optics slower this time and tried to sit, but he screamed in agony when he felt a sudden pain in his chest, like it had been torn apart. He lay back on the berth, frame heaving heavily.

‘Weak.’ was a sound he heard inside his head as he tried to hold back the pain. It was new, it didn’t like the one he had grown used to. It weakened him, and he didn’t like it.

He looked around the room he was in and became confused. The room he was seeing was nothing like he had ever known. It wasn’t the Decepticon’s medbay; the ceiling was white, and the wall was light blue. Looking around, he saw a lot of machines, cables sticking out of them to his own frame. Had he been injured? Likely, if that seizure was any indication.

There was no sign of Hook nor the Constructions. He was in the medbay, wasn’t he?

He saw a small device on the wall opposite of him. It had 12 numbers with three lines. The short line, and the thickest one, pointed at a space between 9 and 10, and the longer one at 6. And the longest one… well, it moved too fast. There were two shelves beside his berth. Had they been placed to hide him?

He moved his hand to his chest. It felt painful, but pain was what he had been forged for. He ignored the pain, and felt something soft in his chest. Was it a bandage? What happened to him?

He could see a console beside him. But he couldn’t make out what was on its screen.

There was a small part of the window in front of his berth. The sun was still up. It must be morning. He checked his energy level, it was still far above minimum. It looked like someone who fixed him also filled his tanks.

No, don’t sit yet, he thought. Better to stay sleeping and conserve energy until he could sit.

* * *

The medbay door opened, and First Aid came in.

It was in the middle of the night when he realised that he hadn’t checked on Sixshot. He had to leave the others for a minute; he didn’t want to interrupt their movie night.

The time he left, Blades was sleeping on Hot Spot’s lap while the fire truck, Streetwise, and Groove had their eyes fixed on the screen. It was Frankenstein.

Too bad, he thought, Sixshot might be able to watch the movie with them.

Sixshot was still inactive when he came by. No changes were made to the medbay.

He quickly checked the console. No big changes either.

He went back to the living room, turned off the lamps, and closed the door.

* * *

When Sixshot woke up again, it was still night. But the lamps were off. Someone had to come by earlier in the night and turned the lamps off.

Everything was dark, even from the console beside him. He couldn’t even make out the small device on the wall. But he could see some part of it by the light from outside. The short line was now at 5. By now, he thought that it was a time measurement device. Must be human in origin.

Weird, he thought, why would a Cybertronian use that device for time measurement?

He kept watching the longest line moved, from 1 to small bars between it and 2 and all the way to 8, became hidden by the shadow, came again, and repeated it. There was a short delay as it moved. Must be a click or half; he couldn’t count.

He could make out the dim sunlight on the small part of the window. The sun was rising; a soft, calming tone of the light was visible.

His tanks were still far from minimal. No wonder, because he barely moved or did something at all.

Where the frag was he anyway?

He was sure that he was still on Earth, from the looks of things around him. But, where exactly? He couldn’t be in the Decepticon base; the outside wasn’t water. Maybe he was in the Combaticons HQ? But no, the outside of Combaticons HQ was dusty and desert. This one… well, he hadn’t seen any sandstorm.

Had he become a human experiment? Had he been captured? It could be; the bandage he wore wasn’t Cybertronian.

He ran a check on his system. His data banks were mostly unreadable; there were some sizable memory gaps there. Based on what he saw, his frame took quite damage, too. And his spark was barely glowing.

His spark.

Hadn’t he killed that day? He felt an extremely painful surge of pain that day, like all the pain from his life became one, and he felt his spark was fading rapidly, and then there was… nothing.

Was this the AllSpark? Was there a second life inside the AllSpark? One in which everyone lived eternally?

Tch, he believed no such thing. When someone died, then he was dead. No fancy afterlife thingy. His frame would grey out and that was all.

He tried to sit up, and yet he still felt a surge of pain from his chest. That meant he wasn’t dead yet. But who fixed him?

Whoever he was, he had to die. He had seen the worst of him, maybe even knew all his weaknesses.

But before that, he had to let him fix him. To give him all the power he needed to kill him.

Yes, that would do.


	5. Five (21/01/18)

Sixshot was getting tired of the pain whenever he tried to sit up. It made him feel weak, far weaker than he would’ve liked. He tried again, ignoring the pain, and this time, he successfully sat up. It gave him no new perspective.

He kept watching the small device on the wall. The short line was now at 6, and the longer one was close to 12. He saw the light from outside had gone earlier, and the automatic lamps turned on.

Just before he lay down again, the door opened.

Sixshot stayed still and looked at him. A small Autobot, red and white, entered the medbay. He looked like he was a medic with his red and white paint. He turned on the lamps by the switch beside his berth, and their optics met.

The Autobot gasped.

“Oh—! You—you’re awake...”

He tried to growl, “Back off, Autobot.” Even his voice sounded weak. He narrowed his optics.

The Autobot visibly trembled a bit, “I-I didn’t see you there... S-sorry...”

“Where am I...?” Sixshot asked with a crack in his voice. Without his strength, he was nothing. Couldn’t even sit up properly. He glared to the Autobot, and felt the Autobot’s gaze on him.

 “Y-you’re in the Protectobot HQ.” the Autobot replied, walking slowly towards the console with his hands on his chest and failed miserably at keeping his voice even. “I-I didn’t expect you to wake up so soon.”

Sixshot looked at him, feeling the soft caress of air on his face. Wait, his face? His mask was off?

“Where have you deplaced my mask?!”

“I… I had to remove it s-so I can check your face…” the medic trembled. “I-it was battered into pieces anyway.”

Sixshot touched his face and felt a few dents and scratches. Really, how much damage had he taken? When looked up, he caught the medic staring at him. He growled, “What?!”

The Autobot gasped, as if caught doing something wrong. “I-it’s just… y-your system. I-it’s… unusual.”

That Autobot had poked around his system? He would take great pleasure in killing him. He knew too much, maybe he had a list of his vulnerabilities.

“Y-your name is Sixshot, right? I should introduce myself.”

No, he thought. Don’t tell me your name, it won’t change anything.

“I’m First Aid, Autobot Medic-in-Training.”

First Aid. Hm. A name wouldn’t save him. Even though this mech showed no fear towards him. He still could feel—sense—something. But it wasn’t fear of being killed, it was something he couldn’t name.

Was he really a medic? Was he the one who fixed him? Sixshot stared at the blue visor, noticing its owner began trembling again. There were a lot of question in his head, all of them screamed ‘why’. There were also a lot of commands, nearly all of them screamed ‘kill’. The medic wouldn’t make any sense if it were true that he did it. Maybe it was true, maybe it was just an Autobot glitch.

Sixshot didn’t try to answer any of those questions.

“C-can you feel your l-leg?”

“Why?” he wanted to know, though he knew that it wouldn’t save the mech—First Aid—from his fate.

The Autobot foolishly replied “Y-your leg took quite damage when y—”

“Why do you fix me?” he cut the explanation.

There was a long pause. The Autobot stared back at him. Sixshot couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his mask prevented him from reading his expression. Finally, the medic looked away, “…I-I’m a medic.” he finally said. “I-it’s my job to save people.”

“Even though I might kill you?”

“…yes.”

Silence passed over them. First Aid had his focus on the monitor to check him, whilst Sixshot lay back on the berth and stared at the ceiling. How weak he was. Being fixed by an Autobot. If he at least had the strength to rise and control his hands, not just for sitting up, he would’ve run out and made his own way to the Decepticons.

Not that he cared about the fact that this place was full of Autobots. Take one down, a handful would come. And he’d blast his way off, as usual.

First Aid returned to him. “I-I’m… uh… How… how do you feel about your spark?”

Sixshot turned towards him, optics wide, and for once, surprised. What the frag did the Autobot mean?! He then narrowed them. “Say it one more time and I will make sure your death wouldn’t be quick.”

Even his words took First Aid a few steps back until his back met with the console. Yes, Autobot, fear me.

“I—I’m sorry… I-I should’ve explained t-to you.” He stepped closer, trembling. “Y-you were shot twice, and they left holes in your frame. That is why I… placed the bandage. To close the holes and make them recover faster. The one at your shoulder recovered faster—too fast, I think. The one near your spark, though…”

That, Sixshot thought, gave him an explanation why he was so weak.

“L-let me fix it?” First Aid asked him, still trembling. Waiting for allowance.

Sixshot nodded. Keep giving me the ability to kill you.

“Can you sit up?”

Sixshot sat up, trying his best not to twitch or cringe when the Autobot’s hands touched his chest.

First Aid crouched down beside him, and slowly opened the bandage. Sixshot let the Autobot touch him, but still had his optics on those white hands. Soon those hands would be covered in light blue fluid of his blood…

The hands didn’t do anything other than opened the bandage and hold his frame. First Aid only did a quick peek and then reclosed the bandage. Sixshot saw those hands trembled.

“I-It’s healing itself. I suppose it can be fully fixed in at least 1 month.”

Sixshot lay back on the berth, not answering it.

“I have to go now. I’ll check on you later.”

First Aid then left the room. The weird device on the wall that he remembered had its short line at 3.

And also, he remembered there was a window near it, and when he saw it, there was evening light.

* * *

When First Aid came to the living room, he found that it was empty.

“Hot Spot?”

“Hasn’t Hot Spot returned from patrol?” a voice answered him.

He turned. Groove was by the door, holding an energon cube.

“He commed me to meet him here…”

Groove shrugged, then they both sat down and Groove turned the TV on.

“Oh, First Aid, you’re here.” Hot Spot came from the kitchen. First Aid and Groove looked up. “Sorry. I had to have a shower first. I fell into a mud.” He sat down beside Groove, who then stood up and left them to give them room.

“How goes Sixshot?”

First Aid looked down, fiddling with his fingers. “He goes fine. He’s already awake.”

“He is?” He was startled. “I thought you’ve told me that he isn’t going to wake up anytime soon.”

First Aid looked hesitant. “I have… I myself didn’t expect him to wake up this soon.”

“Does it mean a bad thing?”

He looked at Hot Spot, looking uneasy. “I don’t know. I don’t know why or how did he manage to wake up this soon. Maybe it was just system glitch.”

Hot Spot didn’t answer.

“So… how went your patrol?” he said, looking at the TV.

“Nothing special. No humans needed help. No Decepticon activity. Maybe they are too busy looking for Sixshot.” He answered. “You do remember that he still is a Decepticon, right?”

“Yes…” he looked down.

Hot Spot sighed, turning off the TV. “Come on, Aid. Let’s have a drive. You’re so tense.”

First Aid nodded and followed him outside.


	6. Six (28/01/18)

The snow was falling outside.

Three weeks had come by since he was inactive. Winter had come, but it didn’t matter to him. Snowing or not, it was the same for him.

First Aid had allowed him to sit and stand, though standing was quite hard, but still manageable with his legs still mostly not responding to commands, but at least he could move now. The bandage was still on his chest; the hole was now mostly closed, only a few scratches left. But inside was still taking much time to recover.

He used his time to get to know this Autobot—First Aid—who had helped him. He had reason, he thought, he was a reasonable person to spend time with. But why would he fix him still puzzled him.

First Aid would check him up every three days. He had patrol in Friday; usually he didn’t take too long, he was needed mostly here in the HQ. And the ambulance spent most of his time here in the medbay, with him. Making sure he was fine.

How could the Autobots allow him to fix him? That was a question he wanted to know the answer. Although, maybe it was better for him to not know about it.

He stood up slowly and walked to the other window on the other side of the medbay, the one which showed him the backyard of the Protectobots HQ. There were the Protectobots, throwing snow to one another, running away and chasing their team. Groove was throwing First Aid a snowball, which he missed. Hot Spot stood near the bench, looking at his team with a smile.

Somehow, looking at First Aid made his spark pulsed faster.

His mask was off. He could see the bare face of his, smiling, laughing. Chasing Groove with a snowball in his hand. Running through the yard with Blades and Streetwise laughing at him. Then he slipped and fell on his pedes, laughed and threw the snowball to Groove.

Sixshot just watched them behind the window.

* * *

“You know, you’re already allowed to walk around, if you want.” First Aid said, taking off the equipment from his frame.

“Maybe later.” He replied, looking at the small device again. It had its short line at 4.

“Okay. Drink this, it’ll help you heal.” First Aid put an energon cube on the table beside the berth. “I noticed you’re often staring at the clock.”

Sixshot looked at him. “The what?”

“The clock. You know, a human time measurement device. I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it before.”

“I haven’t.” he said, taking the cube and sat up. “We don’t use that.”

“You have to at least learn about it. It’s where you live, you know.” First Aid took off his scarf and put it on the table. He rubbed his mask to make it warmer. “The shortest line marks hour, roughly equal to 0.6 breem. A breem is equal to 1 hour 45 minutes.” He pointed to the clock, Sixshot followed his finger. “The longer one marks minute, roughly equal to 0.8 cycle. A cycle is equal to 1 minute 20 seconds. And the shortest one mars second, equal to 0.75 click. Two clicks are equal to three seconds.”

Sixshot took the information in; one day it might be useful.

“Okay, I have to go. Ratchet will be angry if I come late.” First Aid looked at him, then went to the door.

He watched him go, then sipped slowly from his cube. He cringed. What had First Aid put in there?

He finished the cube and put it on the table. And… First Aid’s scarf was still there.

He stared at it.

After some time, he picked it and put it in the drawer.

* * *

The door chimed open. “Good evening.”

Sixshot looked at the door. It was Hot Spot, the Protectobot leader.

“First Aid told me that you’re now allowed to stand and walk.”

“Yes.” He said, then looked back through the window. “He did.”

Hot Spot closed the door. “You’re taller than I thought.”

“First Aid is as tall as my chest, therefore you’d be as tall as my neck.”

“I’d know about that.” He opened one of the shelves.

Sixshot didn’t say anything, instead he watched the snowflakes falling down from the sky. It was snowing. The window was cold and nearly frozen. The lamps of the city blurred behind, the stars weren’t quite visible.

“You like the view of the backyard?”

He continued watching through the window. “I do.”

Hot Spot took a tube and closed the shelf, then stood behind Sixshot. He stared at the phase sixer’s broad shoulder. “Are the Decepticons looking for you?”

“No.” Sixshot said coldly. “Decepticons abandon their own if they cannot go back to base by themselves.” He didn’t even look to Hot Spot. “I might as well assume that they have already considered me dead.”

Hot Spot cringed.

“Decepticons don’t usually come back to the battlefield to pick up their own. If you cannot go back to the base by yourself, you don’t deserve to be back at all. It’s the strongest will survive.” Why was he talking about this to the enemy?

“Is it… Really?”

“We are on different factions, so our traditions might as well be different.”

Hot Spot didn’t answer.

Sixshot turned his head a little to see the fire truck from the corner of his optics. “Why did you come here?”

“I was just taking this tube for Groove. I’ll go right back.”

Then Hot Spot left.

Sixshot sighed, and continued watching the snow.

* * *

The medbay was now practically Sixshot’s room. Even when he had been able to walk around freely, he almost never left the room, mostly because he was still limping.

It was still two months and a half before Christmas. Even so, the Protectobots were already preparing themselves. All the damaged furniture had been replaced. The holes in the wall were all fixed. The Protectobot HQ was like new again.

“Sixshot?” First Aid entered the medbay, bringing some datapads. Past these days, he’d been bringing some datapads for Sixshot to read. He was sure he got bored of being alone for so long in the medbay.

Sixshot was sitting on the side of his berth, reading a datapad with a stack of other pads on the table. First Aid put the new pads next to the stack.

“You can go outside now; you know?”

“I’d rather be here.” He replied, didn’t look up from the datapad.

“Because of the snow?”

“Because of the cold. And I’m sure I don’t have much to do, given my condition.”

“It’s fine.” First Aid looked over the bedside table. “Did you see my scarf?”

“I did not.”

He looked beside the console. “I’m sure I left it here.”

Sixshot looked up a little. “If you left it here, you’d find it easily.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll go to my room.” And he left.

Oh, he remembered that he put the scarf in the drawer. First Aid would return here anyway; he could give it on another time.

The datapads First Aid gave him was very informative, though it only contained things related to Earth, its lifeforms, history, structure, etc. He didn’t dislike Earth; he just didn’t care about it. And now he saw there was a lot more of Earth than he thought. The early days of human civilisation were unlike the early days of Cybertronian civilisation with many gods, beliefs, and myth. Cybertron didn’t really see that.

Without him knowing, Blades was peeking him from the medbay door.

* * *

His room was silent.

First Aid laid himself on his berth. It was late in the night and he could not sleep.

Why was he fixing Sixshot anyway? His processor asked him.

Because he had a second chance, his spark answered.

He felt strange around Sixshot. He wasn’t afraid of him like he was before. He also didn’t harm him in any way. Well, yes, he was cold and uncaring, but it was his nature.

It was impossible that destroying was his nature; maybe he was only following orders. Megatron must have done something to change him. He must have. One bot couldn’t be created with this kind of personality, to be a weapon of mass destruction. Well, Vortex maybe could; who knew what was inside his sick glitched processors. But Sixshot wasn’t the case.

The room was dark, and First Aid thought it might be better if he turned on the lamps.

He didn’t.


	7. Seven (11/02/18)

The medbay was starting to make him bored.

He wasn’t interested in medical things, and he had read all the datapads First Aid brought him. Maybe there was something outside that could give him a break from the medical equipment and the bluish walls of the medbay.

And Earth’s snow; was it different from Cybertron’s? They were the same colour, had the same process to form, in nearly the same temperature. But it was so much smaller.

He looked to the window to the city. Most of the buildings had their roofs covered by snow. He could see some children playing around in the snow on the city below. The sun’s heat was warm enough to make them go out and play. But he also saw some weird-looking vehicles wiping off the snow from the road. What were they doing? He thought all humans liked snow.

Sixshot stared at the clock briefly; it was 8 in the day. Still morning.

Today, First Aid wasn’t going to check him, though he could still walk outside the medbay and go out, as long as he didn’t leave the HQ. How could he leave the HQ anyway? His legs were still mostly not responding, and he had a great time walking limp. And he couldn’t transform to any of his alt modes with his spark still unstable; First Aid had warned him.

But he could still walk at least outside.

He moved to the other window, and saw no one at the backyard. Where are the Protectobots? Weren’t they supposed to guard him? He shouldn’t be allowed to walk outside; he was the enemy. He should be kept watched and guarded in a room 24/7. Somehow, he felt like they were mocking him, thinking that he was weak he didn’t need any protection.

He found himself in front of the medbay door. He then opened it and walked outside; surprised that it wasn’t locked.

It was quiet in the hallway; he was expecting the Protectbots with their weapons pointed at him for escaping. Although, he wasn’t escaping. He took the way to his left, as he saw the stairs going down.

It made him thought that he was so weak; he needed so much time to just walk downstairs. The main room was also empty. No one was there. The console was turned off, but he saw a camera. Maybe it was recording him going downstairs. He wondered, where were the Protectobots? Were they on a mission? It was still early in the morning; they couldn’t be in a rush. And it wasn’t too morning that they were still in recharge. He went to a hallway to his left again, and he met the backyard door.

He opened the door. It wasn’t locked like the medbay. And when he was outside, he saw nothing but the white of snow. There were high walls fencing the yard. They were high enough to hide whoever was inside from the outside, as well as preventing one to jump over them.

He stepped on a small set of stairs, careful not to slip on the new surface, and fell miserably to his aft. It was very slippery; he bit back a cringe as his legs hurt. The snow felt familiarly weird. It was much softer than the one he used to. He tried to stand up, but his legs weren't responding.

He lay in the snow for some times. He picked one handful of and examined it. Very light, he thought, it melted in his hand so quickly. He made a snowball and watched it melted slowly in his palm. He made another one and threw it. What was so fun of it? He watched the Protectobots doing it but they were laughing and running, chasing away each other. Had he done wrong? What was the point anyway?

“It's only fun if you do it with someone else.” a voice behind him spoke.

Sixshot looked up behind. He saw First Aid was standing behind him.

“I didn't expect you to go out here by yourself. Why are you sitting here?”

“I slipped.” he replied, feeling stupid. “My legs aren't responding.”

First Aid chuckled slightly. He walked in front of Sixshot and offered a hand for him to stand up.

Sixhsot ignored him for a moment; instead he tried to stand up on his own. But he then gave up after his legs failed, and reluctantly took up the hand.

When Sixhsot took his hand, First Aid didn't expect him to rely on it entirely. Instead he yelped and fell onto Sixshot's.

For some time, they just lay there. First Aid watched Sixshot's red optics as Sixshot watched his blue visor. They were so close until Sixshot could see the widened optics beneath that visor. He felt exposed now, _very_ exposed as the Autobot could see his expressions with no mask to hide them. He tried to be silent, and not repeat the small gasp First Aid let out.

Sixshot then spoke up, breaking the silence and trying to sound _at least_ annoyed. “Get off me.” though the words were command, the tone he used felt more like a plea.

“O-oh r-right, right.” First Aid said. The Phase Sixer saw his visor dimmed slightly, then brightened again. He lifted himself off from Sixshot's frame and tried to stand up. “Can you stand now?”

He tried to stand again, but his legs were still not responding. “I can't.”

First Aid offered his hand again, but this time he braced himself for the heavy weight.

Sixshot, still reluctantly, took the hand and tried to stand up again. First Aid used both hand to support their weigh. This time he managed to stand up successfully, but he still couldn't walk.

“Take a step.”

He lifted his leg and took a step. He nearly lost his balance and fall, but First Aid caught him by the hands and prompted him to continue. He then took a step, then another, then another, until he made halfway of the yard, still holding hands with First Aid as he guided him to walk.

They reached the bench and First Aid prompted him to sit. They sat in silence, awkwardly trying to ignore the other sitting next to themselves.

“Where were you this morning?” He asked, not looking to the other's optic.

First Aid stared at him. “I was having a bath.”

Sixshot looked at him.

“It means cleaning your frame.” First Aid looked away. “Human term. To clean someone's frame.”

“I do know what it is.” Sixshot made an ‘hmpf’ sound.

First Aid replied him with a nervous laugh. “We usually have a bath at least once in a week.” he rubbed his mask. “You don't usually do it on a regular basis, do you?”

“I don't. I usually clean my frame when I think it's dirty, or when I return from a mission.”

“Well, we like to make our frames always clean.”

“Are you suggesting that my frame is not clean?” Sixshot looked at him, staring in confusion.

First Aid waved his arms in defence, nervousness in his tone. “No--that's not—I didn’t mean that! It's just... a bit different from what I've grown to be used to.” Sixshot sighed slightly. “Have you drank the cube I gave you?”

Sixshot gripped his thighs, earning a glance from First Aid that he missed. He noticed the change of topic, but he paid no mind. “I have. What had you included in it?”

“Oh, just some medical stuff that'll help you recover.” Somehow, he felt his spark was pulsing a bit faster than usual. He thought that it maybe the cold, him being not using his scarf. “It tastes bad, doesn’t it?”

“Not bad, just… unfamiliar to me.”

First Aid gripped his chestplate. It felt weird. He would just figure it out later. He had to keep his frame warm for now. “Okay, are your legs responding now?”

Sixshot lifted his left leg. “Yes.” he then stood up, about to leave, but...

First Aid gripped his left hand, stopping him. “Don't go back inside, you need more rest.” he stared Sixshot's broad shoulders.

Sixshot looked over his shoulder. “I am going to rest.”

“No, I mean, you need more walking to stimulate your legs.”

Sixshot could see ‘please don't leave’ written all over First Aid's visor. He then looked at him. “Get your hand off mine.”

First Aid blinked, then released the hand. “Sorry.” he looked away. “Where are you going to?”

“I was going to medbay, but as you said that I need more walking, I'll go take a walk.” Sixshot said, red optics flashed with confusion and uncertainty. _Why am I confused_ , he thought to himself, _it's not like I have to deny Megatron's order_. “Would you come with me? I think I won't be able to take a walk freely without you by my side.” the words left his mouth unexpected, and he realised when he heard himself speaking.

He saw the ambulance’s visor brightened and dimmed, then followed by a small exvent. “Yes.”

“Hey, Aid!” A snowball landed on Sixshot's helm.

First Aid was about to laugh when Sixshot turned to the door and growled. So loud that First Aid was sure he felt the vibration. Streetwise was standing there, ready to leave in case Sixshot decided to after him.

“I guess I'll be seeing you later!” as fast he had come, Streetwise left the backyard.

The ambulance fidgeted. “It's fine. He didn't mean to hit you.”

“He hit me on the head!”

“Yes, but it was only a snowball. We do that often in winter.”

So that was what they were doing. “It's degrading.”

“Only if you lost. It's fun, for me.” First Aid stood up. “You seem don't like to play snowball fight, so, let's go outside. You're fine without your mask?”

“Yes.”

* * *

After telling Hot Spot that he would be walking with Sixshot, First Aid took Sixshot and went outside. When they were outside, many of the humans were giving looks to Sixshot. Mainly because the Decepticon symbol on him. First Aid just told them that he was an Autobot spy that was on a mission and now was on recovery. The city road was too narrow for them to walk on, so First Aid decided that it'd be better for them if he took Sixshot to a place with more space for them. The countryside was the first thing that passed his mind. But then he took him to the park; the countryside was too far away.

The park was quiet. There weren't many people there. It was still working hour in work day after all. Sixshot was quiet when walking there, but he did ask a few things. Much better than being in the medbay.

They took a path to a part of the park that had more trees than the others. Sixshot was a lot less intimidating with the makeshift bandage in his chest and when he was calm and friendly. Well, for Sixshot, friendly meant calm and not to growl every time something irritated him.

“So, the trees gave life to all other lifeforms of Earth.” he asked when they sat on the ground to rest.

“No. Well, yes, but not like that. And not all of them.” First Aid looked over a squirrel in a tree. “The trees exhale oxygen for other lifeforms to inhale. And the other lifeforms exhale carbon dioxide for trees to inhale. With the help of the sunshine, trees make sugar for them to life. That's photosynthesis. Only trees can do it. And the life on Earth goes way back much older before the trees goes.”

“What about the creatures in the sea?”

“They had their kind of trees. I've never been underwater though.” First Aid said nervously.

“They inhale carbon? I thought it was poisonous.”

“Not for the trees.” he tapped a trunk of a tree beside him. “The humans have already made use of carbon in other ways, though.”

“How do they use it?” Sixshot looked at him plainly.

“For fuel. Not the one they eat, but to power their civilisation. Cars, machines, they can use carbon as fuel.” then his commlink buzzed. “I’m sorry.”

“ _First Aid, where are you?_ ”

It was just Blades. “In the park with Sixshot, why?”

“ _Oh Primus..._ ” He heard him protested “ _You went outside with him?!_ ”

“Yes, he needs more walking.” It wasn't anger that coloured Blades' voice; it was more like concern.

“ _By walking with him I guessed you went walking in the yard. How would the humans react?!_ ” Blades sighed. “ _Okay whatever, when will you get back?_ ”

“I think later. I can say that Sixshot is enjoying himself.” he said, looking at Sixshot, who curiously ran his digits through the surface of a tree trunk. “The humans are fine. I explained it to them that he was just a spy.”

“ _Okay, just... just don't get into any trouble._ ”

Then the commlink went dead.

“Who was it?” Sixshot asked him. There was a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“Blades. He asked me where are we.”

“What did you say?”

“We are in the park, just taking a walk.” he glanced to the fair face of Sixshot. He was like a normal mech like this, not a weapon or a threat. “Let's continue.”

* * *

By the time they went back, the HQ was still empty. Blades and Groove were patrolling, Streetwise was resupplying energon stock from the Ark with Hot Spot. Hopefully the other Autobots, especially Prowl and Red Alert, didn't notice or weren’t suspicious their slight increase of energon. It was only one cube per day anyway.

“You can take the stairs, right?”

“Yes.”

The medbay door then opened and Sixshot went inside.

First Aid titled his head in the doorframe. “Thanks for today, I guess. You don't need check-up anyway, I've been scanning your system and everything's fine.”

Sixshot just nodded. Then he closed the medbay door and went to his berth and sat.

How could he make himself friendly with the enemy? Yes, First Aid had helped him in more ways than one, but he was still the enemy! And not just that, he felt there was an itch in his spark that lasted a few seconds. Maybe it was just his spark touches his spark casing, knowing that it hadn't yet fully closed.

Today had been weird. He also made himself vulnerable and plain and defenceless in First Aid's company. He should be the one who made the other be like that.

Sixshot was confused. He looked at the clock.

It was 3 in the evening.

And it was when he realised that when First Aid titled his head before, he had been smiling.


	8. Eight (18/02/18)

The console beeped as First Aid played his hands over its keyboard.

Sixshot could only watch those hands so expertly moving around the keyboard, without their owners even looking at them. They were so rapid on touching the button with high accuracy, it never missed any letter, nor even it rested whilst typing commands. It made him watched in awe. Hook's hands never worked like that, or maybe he never watched the crane’s hands whilst working. How could medics' hands work so expertly?

He looked at the ceiling; there was this weird thing in his spark that he felt when he was with First Aid since the day when he walked with him to the park. It made him feel weird; the sensation was strange and unfamiliar. But he just shrugged it off. Maybe it was an effect of the medical energon, or whatever that thing was, that First Aid had given him on a quite regular basis.

First Aid had told him not to sit or walk and let his spark and frame rest for today. Lying down wasn't a thing he enjoyed, but he didn't want any trouble. And to have to drag himself in case his legs suddenly weren't responding.

“I'm going to open the bandage up.” First Aid then suddenly spoke to him.

Sixshot just nodded. First Aid then walked to him and gently opened the bandage. He had been familiar with this procedure, recalling that he endured it every 2 days. He kept quiet when First Aid's fingers tapped his chest and looked over the damage and his spark. Then the spark scanner in First Aid's hand began beeping.

“Your spark pulse is a tad higher. Were you doing some kind of activity today?”

“No.” Sixshot replied flatly. “You told me not to.”

“Hmm.” First Aid pondered. “Have you been thinking about something?”

“No.” he replied, still not looking into the visor. “Not exactly.”

First Aid nodded. “So, you've been thinking about something?”

“Not that kind of thing in particular.”

He the titled his head; an indication that he was smiling. “Well, it means nothing is wrong. If you've been thinking, then your spark's pulse could also increase. Everything's normal, then.” First Aid then closed the bandage again.

“Your hands are vibrating.” Sixshot said plainly to First Aid, noticing the vibration on his chest.

“Oh?” First Aid's visor grew brighter for a few milliseconds. “I think I really need to rest. Hot Spot told me that I overworked myself.”

He took the spark scanner and placed it on the shelf. Then he turned off the console. “See you later, then.” he waved to Sixshot.

He just watched First Aid leave. “First Aid...?”

“...yes?” he turned his head in the door.

“Make sure you sleep. Defrag your hard drive if you have to.” the words left his mouth without even he thought about them.

“...okay. Thanks.” First Aid then snapped his mask off. It wasn't removeable like his, and it showed him the soft, small smile in his face. It was unlike the last time he saw that smile. This was softer, more personal. Then he left the room and closed the medbay door.

* * *

“He told me to sleep, even to defrag my hard drive if I have to. Isn't that an improvement?” First Aid spoke to Hot Spot.

“What kind of improvement?” He asked him, moving a bit to make himself comfortable under the ambulance's frame. He was still bigger, but having a red and white ambulance lying on his frame made himself a bit uncomfortable when he had just gone back from a night patrol and had a bath.

“He was very tense when he first laid himself here; he only answered my questions with a yes and a no. And he was now fine with himself being touched by me.”

Hot Spot rolled First Aid's tyres. “But isn't that really his nature? I thought he was violent.”

“He might be, but I don't think so.” First Aid tapped the datapad he was holding, preventing it from turning off its screen. “If yes, he would've run out the moment he had the ability to walk.”

And then it struck Hot Spot. “He can walk now, can't he?”

First Aid caught a tone of seriousness and worry on those words. “Yeah. Why? He...—oh.”

“We have to hand him over to the Decepticons. It's time.” Hot Spot said, apology in his tone. “We cannot help him too much. He might as of now plan something.”

“But... he was still limping!” First Aid said, worried, facing Hot Spot. What if they let Sixshot go, the Decepticons did something bad to him? Or worse, kick him out?

Hot Spot could detect the worry in First Aid's voice. He definitely had formed some kind of relationship with Sixshot. And it was a personal one. He sighed, it was too late in the night, maybe they can talk about this at next morning. Or even at the next one. “Anyway, I'm tired. We have to sleep. Sixshot's advice isn't one to be ignored, you know.” Hot Spot turned off the lamps. The only light remaining in the room was only from a visor and a datapad as Hot Spot turned off his optics.

“Go sleep first, I'm still finishing this datapad.” First Aid said, no looking into the other's optics.

“Okay, but don't overwork yourself again.” And with that, Hot Spot went to sleep.

First Aid might seem reading the datapad. But the truth is, he was thinking about Sixshot.

* * *

Next morning came too fast.

First Aid woke up with a hand on his chest, hugging him. The lack of light made him think that it was Sixshot's hand, and it was Sixshot who was hugging him. But then he realised that he wasn’t in the medbay. It was Hot Spot who was behind him.

He was a bit dizzy from a thorough hard drive defrag last night. And Hot Spot showed no sign of waking up soon. It was still very early in the morning anyway. He turned on the lamp in the bedside table and saw the clock. It was still 3 and a half in the morning.

He thought about taking a morning walk.

Slowly, he removed the arm from his chest and got up. He watched his commander's sleeping face. With the lack of mask, he thought, Hot Spot is a bit like Sixshot. He then took his datapad and went off the room.

When he was outside, he noticed that the medbay door wasn't fully closed. The lamps were also turned on. Had... had someone came by? Had Sixshot gone away? Had he run his plan? He walked to the medbay, cautious to anything that might jump on him, gun ready on his hand. He turned the corridor lamps on just in case, and opened the medbay for little by little.

Nothing was wrong inside the medbay. The shelf and the berths were still in their previous places. Nothing out of ordinary. And when he saw behind the shelf, Sixshot was also still there... reading a datapad and had his red optics to him on the doorframe.

“You aren’t sleeping.”

First Aid, trying to keep himself up, walked quietly into the medbay. “I woke up. It's a half past three in the morning.”

The other mech stared at him.

“I mean,” he saw Sixshot looked at the clock. “It's 03.35.”

He then looked at the ambulance. “What are you doing here?”

He stopped beside the console and sat on a chair. “I saw the medbay door open. Someone had come by at the night?”

“No.” Sixshot said, looking into the datapad. “I went downstairs to find a datapad you gave me another day. I found it on the main room. It seems I forgot to fully close the door.”

“Well.” First Aid said, looking to his palm. There was nothing actually wrong. He didn’t ban Sixshot from taking a walk downstairs. Suddenly, a thought flashed in his processor, and he spoke it without thinking about it. “I'm going to take a morning walk. Do you want to come along?”

Sixshot just stared.

“You know, the last time you walk was a few days ago. You can take a walk now.”

Sixshot nodded and got up, putting the datapad on the bedside table. “If you insist.”

* * *

The park was quieter than the last time they took a walk. Only a few humans running in the park. The lamps were still turned on. No wonder, it was still very early in the morning after all.

“You know,” First Aid said. “the trees are much more interesting when it's green. When it's summer.”

Sixshot walked quietly beside him, looking over his shoulder to the trees. “Why aren't they green now?”

“It's winter. They drop their leaves so that they can minimise evaporation. And it's snowing.” the ambulance replied, hugging his chest. “On some part of this planet, winter doesn't occur, and trees are green all the time in the year.”

“Their trunks are brown.” Sixshot asked, looking at him.

“No, I mean their leaves. Though there are some plants that don't have green leaves.”

“Is something wrong with you?” Those red optics were a bit dim, but glowed in a short time.

“Me?”

“You've been hugging your chest.”

First Aid chuckled slightly. “I'm cold. I lost my scarf a few days ago, remember? The new one hasn’t arrived. I didn't know that it'd be this cold.” Unconsciously, he snuggled closer to the bigger frame beside him. “You're warm.”

Sixshot cringed as he felt the ambulance's shoulder touched his arm. He wasn't used to being touched, especially when the one who touched him wasn’t a Decepticon. But he let First Aid. As long as he didn't do anything more, it was fine, if not a bit uncomfortable.

They walked quietly to the parkpath. Although it was small, they managed to walk beside each other without stepping outside the path. They were covered by snow anyway. The more they walk, the more Sixshot realised that the medic was colder than he initially thought.

“Sixshot?”

“Yes?”

“I forgot to tell you something. I'm only allowed to take care of you until you can walk. And now I think you're a few days away to be able to walk normally without limping.” First Aid said with a bitter tone.

Sixshot looked at him. “Then?”

“Then you have to go back to the Decepticons.”

Sixshot mused. No one on the Decepticons had ever done such thing First Aid had done to him past these 3 weeks. He had been so nice to him. But Megatron was still waiting for him there...

“You made a very quick recovery, though.” the ambulance continued. “I thought it'd take at least six or seven months for you to recover. And yet you only needed at least one. Not even one. You aren't even limping as we walk now.”

Suddenly he felt he didn't want to go. Why did he suddenly feel that? After three weeks of incapability and humiliation, he can finally release himself. But somehow... he didn't want to. What had made him so... submissive? He remembered, he supposed to destroy the Protectobot base! Or at least give it quite damage. And now he found himself walking with one of them. What had made him so weak?

If First Aid hadn't helped him, he might as of now be walking in the debris of their base. What would Megatron think of him now? Weak. In the hands of the Autobots. Incapable. But... he didn't feel all wrong. He chose this, he chose to be submissive. He made many choices in his life. He chose to be with Megatron, and it proved him right. He chose to be in the hands of the Autobots. And somehow... he didn't feel that it was a wrong choice.

But if First Aid hadn't helped him, he'd be offline now. He'd be one with the Allspark. There wouldn't time when he gave his report to Lord Megatron. His life would've been ended. Nothing would matter anymore to him.

Wasn't it better to at least survive?

He had done this. Now he had to endure the consequences.

“Sixshot?”

He realised that he had been thinking. “Yes?” he said, turning to look at the ambulance.

“Is it fine with you?”

“I...” he looked away. “I would need time.”

“Okay.” First Aid held Sixshot's hand.

Sixshot didn't reply, nor did he react when First Aid's hand held his. First Aid felt awkward, so much until it was so tense. They didn't exchange looks, nor did they say something.

“I think we should go back.” First Aid said, ignoring the awkwardness.

“If you say so.” he said. “You’re too cold.”

“Hot Spot isn’t going to be amused when he finds out about me.” First Aid chuckled, then released his hand when he realised he had been holding Sixshot's.


	9. Delapan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My PC recently broken, so I hit writer's block .,.  
> anyway, here's chapter eight

Sixshot didn't want to go.

_“You can walk normally in a few days. Then you have to go back to the Decepticons.”_

His optiques watched the datapad, but his mind drifted away. What was Megatron doing? How goes the Decepticon without him? Were they looking for him? The last question would be unlikely. He almost didn't have any friends in the Decepticon rank. These Protectobots had been nice to him. Usually he stayed at his room for all day long if he wasn't having a mission, and no one dared to enter his room, let alone bother him. And he was quite fine with the silence. He was accustomed to it, though sometimes he'd like to have someone to talk. But, he’d make use of his time.

But now, he felt like something was missing if First Aid wasn't in the medbay. The Protectobots kept a relation with him when he thought he couldn't have any. And it proved him wrong.

“Hey, Sixshot!” the door opened and Groove entered.

Sixshot nodded. They weren't afraid of him. They came to and went from the medbay like he was only a normal bot, well, save for one helicopter. They treated him like an equal. No order for him, no too much respect for him. But they did still understand the chain of command. Even though they respected Hot Spot, they could still make jokes with him, and he didn't mind. Something the Decepticons didn't have among each other. Trust. Loyalty. Faith. Respect.

Well, okay, some Decepticons maybe had it, but still...

“Did you see where First Aid put the laser scalpel? I can't find it.” Groove asked him.

He looked up. “Above the shelf. He left it a few hours ago.” His optiques went back to the datapad, pretending to be reading it.

“Aha! Found it!” Groove took the scalpel into his hands.

Sixshot looked up at him. “What do you need it for?”

“Just messing around.” he grinned. “See you later.” he then left and closed the door.

* * *

First Aid came back at the middle of the day.

The ambulance brought him 2 cubes of energon and took the 2 empty cubes from the table. After check-up, he didn’t close the bandage; he said his chest was recovered. Not fully, but the insides would recover in a week or so. The outside armour was nothing but a small scratch. It was fine for him if the scratch was permanent.

However, he was concerned about leaving First Aid. His mind no longer showed him images of the ambulance laid of the floor, covered by light blue fluid of his blood, some of it was also in his hands as he looked down to the lifeless frame. Now his spark was constantly aching from his absence. Like he wanted the ambulance to be always with him. Even at one night, he wanted First Aid to sleep with him in the medbay.

No, he thought, First Aid had a team to attend to. He said he had to buy Christmas decoration for the base.

He had read all datapads First Aid gave to him to read. He also wasn’t in a mood to take a walk outside.

So he stayed still at the berth, though his spark felt empty in the loneliness of the medbay.

* * *

It was 04:45 at the evening when he heard commotion. He onlined his optiques from standby mode and looked to the window. There was…

Thundercracker and the Decepticons? What were they doing here? After half a surorn of no contact from any of them and now they suddenly came here?

The backyard was a mess. The snowman Groove had built was destroyed. The benches were broken. He could see some Autobots were fighting them. Were they launched another attack to the Protectobot HQ? On what purpose did they?

“Sixshot!” Suddenly First Aid came into the medbay frantically. His frame was heated up and Sixshot could hear his vents were working very hard.

“First Aid, what happened?” He stepped on to the ambulance, who tried to cool his overheated frame. Fortunately, he wasn’t hurt.

“The Decepticons are attacking HQ! I was outside when they did!” He looked up. “You... will come with them?” He said reluctantly.

“I—”

“First Aid!” Hot Spot screamed from the medbay door. He threw First Aid his gun. “Let’s go down and fight them!” He then looked at the six-changer. “Sixshot! You—uh, stay here. Don’t let yourself be seen by any Autobot or Decepticon!”

Sixshot knew it was an order. And he found himself surprisingly obeyed. He nodded weakly as Hot Spot took First Aid downstairs. He closed the door and thought to himself, I was ordered by an Autobot, and I obeyed.

* * *

The battle was fast. Blitzwing found himself on the medbay and urged him to follow. He was reluctant at first, but then followed him downstairs and outside. He saw Groove and First Aid was holding up Swindle and Brawl, and some humans were involved. Blitzwing quickly told him to climb up on Astrotrain and go to base. Sixshot, clueless as to knowing what to do, did so. He heard someone said „Decepticons, fall back!“ on the outside and Astrotrain mumbled something about „He was far stronger than me, why should I rescue him“ before Astrotrain took off and left the battlefield.

At the Decepticon base, he disembarked from Astrotrain. “You have to go to the medbay for check-up.” He heard Astrotrain said. He nodded.

The six-changer went to hallway which led to the medbay, ignoring the odd looks from few Decepticons in the hallway. He was tired, he didn’t know why but he was tired. He wanted to go to his quarter and settle down for a nap. But he couldn’t, as the medbay was becoming closer and closer.

He entered the medbay and was greeted by the sight of Hook on the console.

“About time you show up.”

 _Right_ , he thought, he was missing for half a surorn.

He climbed to a berth. “Be done with it.”

Hook snorted and began scanning him. He noticed that there was a scratch on his chest. “You were lost for half a surorn and only got a scratch?”

“I had more.” He replied, trying to be as short as possible.

The scanning was done and the console was showing recent damages to the six-changer’s frame. Hook examined it and sighed.

“You had been shot on your chest and shoulder. The shot left a hole on respective places. The one in your chest exposed your spark.” He looked at Sixshot. “Frankly, I don’t want to question on how have you recovered so quick.”

Sixshot just nodded.

“What happened there, anyway?”

“There aren’t much to be talked about.” He replied coldly.

“Suit thyself, then.” Hook said, sarcastically. “I’m going to check your chest.”

“You don’t have to.” Sixshot said before Hook could take his tool. “It has been recovered.”

“Strong-aft.”

* * *

“Sixshot! I was so worried about you when you were held captive by the Autobots.”

“I am here, my liege.” Sixshot said, still lowering his head.

Megatron stood up from his chair. “What had happened there? I would like to hear.”

“There aren’t much to tell, my liege.” He lowered his head further, this time in shame. “Only that I have been shot and rendered inactive by the prototype weapon of the Autobot engineer Wheeljack.”

“And yet you took so long to recover?” Megatron replied, somehow sounded amused.

“It was a prototype weapon, my liege, one that managed to make a hole near my spark.”

Megatron nodded. “I see that your hole is now only a mere scratch.”

Sixshot touched his chest. He wanted to go back to his quarter and have a rest, not to go to Megatron’s workroom and be questioned about. With all the shame he lifted on his shoulder, he looked up a bit. “If I may ask, my liege, I want to go to my quarter to have a rest. Hook has checked me earlier today.”

Megatron smirked. “You have performed well, soldier. I was expecting you still inactive by the time we rescued you. And now you appear in front of me with only a scratch. You may return to your quarter.”

“Thank you, my liege.” Taking that as a cue to leave, he stood up and went to the door.

“And, Sixshot,” Megatron called him, he stopped mid-track. “For your strength and as my prize for you, I have taken an Autobot of many who had imprisoned you. You may see him in your quarter.”

Sixshot’s optiques widened. Megatron had taken an Autobot? And now he was going to make him his... prisoner? Slave? Trying to not sound trembling, he replied, “Thank you, my liege.”

His quarter wasn’t too far from Megatron’s workroom, but he felt like it was a country away. Who had Megatron taken for him? Was it one of the Protectobots? Or it was just a random Autobot? How should he deal with him?

Entering the passcode to his quarter, he entered the room and turned on the lamps. He froze when he saw First Aid, sprawled on the chair in front of him.


	10. Sembilan

Sixshot stood in the doorframe, frozen, staring at the motionless frame in front of him. He was unconscious, his optiques were dark, his frame was dirty, battered and full of dents. Sixshot wondered what had happened to him. So, when the ‘Cons were rescuing him, they caught this ambulance also.

Right now, he didn’t know what to do.

So, he let the ambulance to have his rest. He didn’t dare touch him, he didn’t know why.

He then went straight to the washrack. Some clearance of mind would help to deal with things. He deplaced his masque and put it above the rack.

The water felt strange as it ran down his frame. Though his frame wasn’t that dirty, he could see the water turned into brown as it dropt off. His wings gave him funny feeling, probably because the lack of watery input for half a surorn. He laid his back to the metal wall and looked to the empty ceiling, what could he do? First Aid was his doctor, his... friend, was he? What could he do whilst he was here? He couldn’t just set him off to go back to the Protectobot HQ, nor could he fly away and take him there. Megatron would demand why, and the others would wonder.

He turned off his optiques; it was better to think this way. The Carnaval of Christmas, as he heard from First Aid, would begin one week before Christmas. Maybe he could bring him there and pretend that he ran away from him... but no, it’d make him look like a weakling. It’d make him look like he was weak. He had to find a way to save him.

His train of thought stopped when he heard something like a knock, only more desperate. He turned on his optiques and quickly wiped away the remaining of his frame, but the sound became louder, more often. It heard like someone was banging the door. Who could it be?

He put his masque on and stepped off the washrack, and found First Aid banging the door, sobbing. He was panicking, for sure. The ambulance’s back had a few dents as well.

“First Aid...”

The time he said those words, First Aid stopped his movements. He seemed to tremble until Sixshot began to walk towards him, he began to frantically banging the door. He tried to open it but it had no use; the door was automatic and not analogue. The Phase Sixer could practically hear him starting to cry.

“First Aid…!”

He ran to the ambulance and hugged him from behind. “Stop it!”

It had no desired effect. “Release me!” he said whilst trying to release himself. “Please don’t...!”

Sixshot spun and shook him. First Aid looked down at his feet when he ceased his movements, frame still trembling. “First Aid, it’s me!”

“Please stay away...” he was sobbing.

“First Aid!” Sixshot held up his chin slowly. “It’s me...”

The ambulance’s optiques were dark; his optiques were turned off. Sixshot took off his masque. “Turn on your optiques...”

“No!”

“Turn them on, First Aid, it’s me...”

The ambulance turned on his optiques and looked at him, staring into the Phase Sixer’s blazing red ones. He was frozen for a moment, then hugged him, sobbing.

“It’s okay...”

* * *

“So, First Aid had been taken as prisoner by the Decepticon?” Optimus asked him.

Hot Spot stood by the command on the Ark’s bridge. He had to report what happened yesterday, but this time, he had to report straight to Optimus Prime himself. “Yes, Optimus.”

“Hm...” Optimus pondered. “When did this exactly happen?”

“At the battle, sir.” Hot Spot tried to recall the memories of yesterday. “We were too busy trying to make sure that no Decepticon entered our HQ. First Aid was with Groove, but I saw a Decepticon fought him and took him. Groove is as of now still incapable of giving reports as he’s still in the medbay.”

“I see.” He took the datapad on the table and sighed. “You have tent your repairs?”

“I have, but a few dents will recover by themselves.”

Optimus sighed again. “Let’s talk on my office, you look tense. Relax a bit.”

“Right, Spot! Chin up a bit! It’s nearly Christmas anyway!” Jazz shouted from beside the console.

“I know. Just...” Hot Spot waved Optimus who walked to his office. “That’s the thing that concerns me. Christmas is nearby and we won’t have enough time to rebuild.”

“Oh yeah... that.”

“I’m going to go to Optimus’ office.” Hot Spot walked away.

“Okay, but chin up, okay?”

“I will.” He smiled, then walked away.

Optimus was sorting through datapads when Hot Spot entered. His masque was off as he sat on the chair across Optimus’ desk and looked at him. “What are those?”

“Just a few pads I’ve been reading.” He put the datapads beside the desk. “Energon?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

Optimus stood up and filled 2 cubes of energon on the dispenser, then put it on the table as he sat down again. “So..., hold on while I look for the pad, you wrote that you saw some Decepticon took him. Who was it exactly?”

“I don’t know, sir.” He took a sip of the energon. “I thought it was Blitzwing.”

Optimus took his energon and drank. “What would Blitzwing do with him?”

“That’s also what I’ve been thinking. Maybe Megatron told him to.”

“For what purpose did they take him? Unless...” his face then turned a bit more serious. “I know you’ve been keeping Sixshot in the HQ.”

Hot Spot was surprised. Optimus knew? How did he know? Trying not to sound surprised, he asked. “I don’t think I follow.”

The Prime leaned down. “I know. You’ve been keeping him, haven’t you?”

Hot Spot looked away. How could he take responsibility on this? He couldn't just lie to his leader. “I...”

“How long?”

Blatantly, he spoke. “Three and a half months. Since the previous attack.” He wanted to go out of the room and take some alone time right now. “Excuse me, but... how did you know?”

“When I fought the Decepticons, I saw Sixshot entering your HQ, but I never saw him came out.” Optimus leaned back on his chair. “Also, when I was patrolling around the town at early morning, I saw him with First Aid on the park.”

Hot Spot kept quiet.

“What do you have to say for your team, Hot Spot?” Optimus shook his head. “I’m not angry at you, I’m just disappointed that you didn’t tell me from the start. Helping is a thing that I cannot deny, but in this case, I would have considered thoroughly before helping him. You fixed him, did you not?”

“Yes, I did.” He spoke in a low tone, ashamed.

“I don’t know why did you fix him, but I would like to know later. However...” Optimus stopped, making Hot Spot looked up. “I appreciate you for making your own decision and took responsibility of it. You knew the risks, yet you still wanted to face them and you faced them well.” He smiled. “You must’ve thought thoroughly before you took the decision.”

Hot Spot stopped trembling; since when had he been trembling? He looked to the Prime’s bright blue eyes and stared. Optimus sounded like he approved what he did.

“You... are not angry at me?”

“I am, in a way. But, you have proven yourself as a capable leader for making such a decision, though we have to face the outcome now. No other knows this for now, just us.” Optimus said, smiling at him. “But I would like to know why had you fixed him.”

Hot Spot returned the smile, and began to tell Optimus.

* * *

“The water is warm.” First Aid told him.

“I know. It would make you feel better.”

Sixshot cleaned away the grimes and dust off the ambulance’s frame. He was calm and relaxed when the Phase Sixer told him to have a bath. Probably because he felt afraid and very tense when he was brought here.

First Aid leaned on the wall and let his frame be cleaned. It was a weird sensation, like Blades when they were having a bath together. It was slow, cautious. And it was weird considering Sixshot and slow and cautious didn’t really mix well together. Sixshot was quiet, just like he was on the Protectobot HQ. He didn’t say many words. And First Aid welcomed the silence, for now.

He needed time to think, and rest.

He did flinch a bit when the Phase Sixer wiped his hand. He didn’t need to know how sensitive his hands were.

“How did they take you?” asked Sixshot, breaking the silence.

“I don’t really know.” First Aid replied, looking down. “I was fighting with Groove when someone suddenly took me down and then I was unconscious. I woke up right here, in...” He didn’t like to say it, but, “...your arms.”

Sixshot cringed. “This is my quarter.”

First Aid didn’t reply. Instead he asked. “Why am I not placed in the brig?”

“Because Megatron caught you as a prize for me.” Sixshot replied flatly.

First Aid froze. A... prize?

The Phase Sixer washed First Aid’s feet. “As such, it wouldn’t be easy for me to set you free. We will have to adapt and live together for time being.”

Releasing First Aid’s feet, Sixshot stepped away to give him room and gave him towel to dry his frame. “Go get some rest. I still have some other things to do.”

They stepped out of the washrack. “...where do I sleep?” First Aid asked, hesitatingly.

“The berth of course.”

Oh, yes.

“We’ll go to Hook’s medbay tomorrow for check-up. Fortunately, most of your injuries are only dents.”

Sixshot went from the room, seemingly believing First Aid in charge of his room. First Aid then went to the berth, allowing himself to rest after an eventful day. Without Sixshot here, he could think that it was his own berth; it wasn’t much different from the one he had back home.

He turned off his optiques.


	11. Sepuluh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write Sixshot in the bathtub. He deserves some relaxation :)

The walk to the medbay, obviously, didn’t give much. The hallways were all look the same, silver walls surrounding the way. Though, Sixshot seemed to know the way. It helped to ease off the input for his tense processors to process. He would need quite some times to remember.

Sixshot didn’t speak much since this morning (morning, wasn’t it?). Having spent much time with him, he didn’t find it discomforting. It was quite calming, knowing that the Phase Sixer was still himself, but in the other hand, it saddened him. Did whatever he does had done nothing to him? When he woke up earlier, Sixshot wasn’t on the berth with him. He was quite happy with that... but did he wake up all night (night?) working? He saw him on the console, fiddling with some datapads. Until he saw him scrolling on one, he realised that he had been reading. When he had fully woken up, Sixshot told him to go to the medbay. He also told him that his masque was dented, so he took it off.

Which was what he was doing now.

When they arrived at the medbay, there was nobody there. It was very quiet. They sat on available chairs until one of the Constructicons entered. The excavator.

“Oh, hi.” He said. “Hi, Sixshot. And you, um...”

“First Aid.” Sixshot replied before First Aid could.

“Yeah, um... you’re here for repair?” the excavator said, looking at the ambulance in which he could see as a smile, despite the masque.

He’s nice, First Aid thought. He felt a bit grateful that apparently Sixshot spoke to his fellow Decepticons like he usually did to him.

Sixshot nodded; First Aid didn’t know how he should talk to a ‘Con in situation like this.

“Hop on the berth.” He took a few tools. “Hook’s still catching turtles for now. If your need more repairs, or a thorough one, you should meet him. I can’t do it only by myself.”

Huh? Catching turtles? The Decepticons really did that? He just shrugged that thought and laid at the berth. Sixshot stared at him, his red optiques telling him that it was going to be okay.

“I’m Scavenger.” The excavator said whilst analysing him. “Wow, I never thought that I’d be fixing an Autobot.”

“Yeah.” First Aid could see that his hands were trembling slightly. “I never thought that I’d be fixed by a Decepticon either.” Truth was, he was nervous, and afraid. He shouldn’t be trusting these ‘Cons. But thing had been different with Sixshot, and now him. Scavenger was nice; he didn’t like the ‘Cons he faced at the battles. The ambulance didn’t think he ever faced him in any battles, heck, he didn’t even remember seeing him before, Devastator wasn’t counted.

He better not thinking about it as Scavenger started talking to him.

“I’d say you go to stasis while I’m repairing, ‘cause there are also internal injuries. You don’t have to, but I’d recommend. Do you want to?”

First Aid nodded.

* * *

First sight after a reboot was never a pleasant sensation.

Groove closed his optiques right after they came online and let his processors settle. A few milliseconds and there would be no processor aches. The first thing he saw wasn't the ceiling of his quarter. So, he guessed he was in the medbay.

“You're awake.” A voice spoke to him. He saw to his left and saw Perceptor.

It wasn't ‘why am I here’ or ‘what had happened’ that he asked first. Nor was it ‘how did the battle go’. It was “Where's First Aid?”

“Ah, him.” Perceptor replied. “I thought you have better knowledge of his whereabouts.”

Groove closed his optiques. If he had been able to fight Skywarp off, First Aid wouldn’t have been able to be in the Decepticons’ servos. But the Decepticon used a few tricks on him so that Blitzwing could take First Aid.

He draped a servo to his optiques.

“Well, on the bright side, you've survived.” Perceptor said, trying to cheer him up. “Your damage was the worst of the others.”

“Where are the others?” He realised that he couldn't feel almost his lower frame. His right servo was also numb.

“They're on the other room. You have to stay here until your damage was done.” He took a datapad. “You were hit on your lower frame. It was more than just a scratch, I’m afraid. The energon flow on your right servo was also damaged. It will be numb for a few days before your self-repair system complete the repair.”

“How long do I have before it completes?”

Perceptor put down the datapad and smiled reassuringly at him. “A week or so. But it’d take some times for your lower frame to recover. You’ve been doing well for the last 2 days.”

Groove let his mind wander. How was First Aid doing?

* * *

First Aid was still unconscious when the repair was done, so Sixshot had had to leave him in the medbay. Scavenger said it was okay, but recalling how the Decepticons would act if they saw an Autobot on the medbay, Sixshot decided to bring him back to his quarter. Even though it meant he had to carry him on the way.

He only woke up at one time to drink, then Sixshot left, and when he returned, the Autobot was asleep. At least it gave him some quietness and alone time. Well, ‘alone’ time indeed.

Megatron had told him to take a day-off. He was still well-aware that Sixshot was still incapable of hard work. And he didn't push him.

And now, he wanted to have a bath.

Sixshot turned on the water and took off his masque.

These 2 days had been awfully hard for him. Reports were needed to be filled, First Aid needed to be tent on, and at some point Vortex refused to leave him alone. The copter kept on distracting him. He was awfully busy.

He had a plan to take advantage of First Aid, but for him, how can he do it is the other person involved didn't enjoy it? So, he kept that thought aside and instead went to the bathroom to bathe.

He turned on the tap and let the bathtub be filled. It might be too selfish of him to have a bath when the other Deceptions weren't even able to have one. However, given that Megatron himself had told him, he saw no reason not to agree.

It reminded him of something.

Slowly, he sank himself to the warm water and laid himself until his was submerged up to his neck. He remembered the time when he was just a normal bot. Not a Phase Sixer. Not a Decepticon. He had had a rough life. The streets of Kaon were often unforgiving. He had been abused, raped, battered into pieces, and almost got killed. But somehow, he survived, though he only remembered a small part of his past life. When Megatron pick him up from the streets of Kaon, he felt like he was reborn. He was upgraded to have these six alt modes. But one thing remained: he didn't really know the purpose of his upgrade. Was he upgraded to be a mindless killing machine? Or a living weapon? Or was it a gift from Primus for him?

Well, hardly, he thought. If Megatron didn't have a line of code installed in his processors so that he couldn't deny any of his orders.

However, to think, he did owe Megatron his life. He gave him a better life and its perspective.

Wait, wait, wait, why was he thinking these kinds of thoughts?

He suddenly became aware of a sound entered his audios. It was like a sound playing background, humming. He looked everywhere of the bathroom and found no one except him. Nothing was moving, also. Then he realised that his engine _had been purring_. Oh yes, the water. He was too busy thinking until he didn't remember that he was having a good time.

Okay, having a good time maybe a little too much.

For now, he might only have to focus on what was happening now, only that the increasing heat behind his interface cover was making him a bit uncomfortable. How long had he last fulfilled his body’s need?

The water—though he kinda hoped that it was oil instead—warmed his plating. He slowly felt his frame relaxing from the warmth; it even made its way to his protoform. He looked to the ceiling and let himself enjoy his time in the water. This wasn’t even a thing he did often, though. He let his processors be as clear as they could be, turning off the least important processes and he closed his optiques. No one could jump at him; his quarter was locked and First Aid was asleep. Not that he mind if First Aid wanted to join.

Nothing… nothing hurt… nothing could disturb him. Not even his usual thoughts.

The fists that he unconsciously made slowly uncurled. He didn’t care how funny or silly he looked in the bathtub. He moaned lowly; his baritone voice balancing the purr of his frame. It was just so fragging good… until he felt the water bubbling.

He chuckled; his purrs were getting louder. The vibration of his frame made the water be able to do funny things to his frame. He felt a sensation like a physical touch all over his frame, like someone was massaging him. Was he really this tense all the time? The air of the room felt uniquely cool compared to what his frame was feeling. His wings twitched at the sensation. Messages about system temps appeared at his HUD, which he ignored, and he deactivated his cooling fans. And then there was the heat from his interface panel…

He opened his optiques and watched his surrounding as an idea popped itself on his processors. He could, no one could disturb him. He kept watching his surrounding when he opened his interface panel.

Water flowed inside his valve and warmth enveloped his spike. He cringed a bit when he felt the water temperature was too high for the outer folds of his valve. It was too high that he had trouble distinguishing pleasure from pain. Either it was pleasure so intense or pain so gentle. When he closed his optiques, he could feel like his spike was inside a mech’s valve for it was warmth surrounding it. He could overload by kept laying like this if he had enough time, he thought.

He took hold of his spike and gripped it gently; there was almost no difference. His spike felt pressure both from the water and from his grip, and the warmth only made him aching for more. He could submit this one… he could… Valve convulsed with need, the Phase Sixer began pumping his spike. It was very large by average bots’ standard, but not so to himself. He wondered how First Aid would react if his valve was being inserted by his spike…

Arousal built up as his wings touched the tap when he moved. Such a small input would be multiplied when it was directed to his wings. He pumped his spike faster this time whilst his left servo played with the outer folds of his valve, feeling want. A small amount of fluid began to leak from his valve, and it made him moan lowly. He inserted one finger to the valve and when it touched one interior node, he shuddered. His spike was pumped faster; his engine began to roar and it became hotter than the water. Ripples of water hardened and it continued to splutter to his face, but he paid no mind as his felt so good.

Then he lowered his pace as he inserted two more digits into his valve and more of warm water could enter. The extra comforting warmth made everything felt better than usual. His interior nodes felt a light touch as they were touched by the water. Oh he was closer to overload…

He slammed his fingers in and out his valve in a same rhythm with his hand pumped his spike. He moaned; the water splashed his face and some out of the bathtub. His valve was leaking more fluid. His gripped and pumped his spike harder and faster when he felt his overload approaching…

…and it hit him hard, followed by transfluid spluttered from his spike and his valve pumping out fluids. Some of it jumped out the water. He gasped and moaned; he rid the overload as if there was no better overload in his life. And yes, he thought, this was one of the best and oddest overload he ever had. His entire frame jerked; his wings twitched and his cooling fan wanted to turn on to cool his overheated frame, but he cut the request before he splashed water all over the bathroom.

When the post-overload sensation was the only thing he could feel, he was a mess. He laid lifelessly on the bathtub still gripping his spike loosely. He slowly pulled his fingers from his valve, only that he couldn’t taste how he was because the fluid was washed away by the water. He sighed; his optiques turned on and he looked to the ceiling. He should clean the water up.

He stood up after he made sure that his frame was clean from any fluid that might remain on his frame. Then he emptied the bathtub and dried his frame using a towel. He picked his masque up and walked out the bathroom and washrack.

First Aid was still sleeping when he saw him in the berth. Sixshot then sat on the berth. Maybe he should recharge, too. With his frame and his mind relaxed, it would take less processors and less time to fully defrag his drives. He climbed the berth and laid himself beside the medic, who automatically moved to hug the larger mech. Sixshot wasn’t sure what to do at first, but then he let himself be hugged by the medic, and, unconsciously, hugged the medic.


	12. Sebelas

Nightmares were something he often encountered.

The streets of Kaon were shown to him. There shown images of his old life when someone tried to catch him. He ran as fast as he could to outrun his attacker. The incident in that bar, he didn’t think it could end like this. He wasn’t small, but yet he was still smaller than his attacker. His attacker was a heavy-duty transport vehicle.

He thought that he wasn’t supposed to defend that poor mech, him being bullied by some of the street gangster.

His thoughts were gone the moment he heard a scream behind him. He tried to run faster; there wasn’t any place he could hide.

Someone grabbed him by his shoulder and pinned him to the wall. Those bright red optiques stared into his. Sharp fangs were close to his face and sharp digits were trying to pry up his neck.

“You shouldn’t have done that, cheap pleasurebot!”

“I—I didn’t…—ack!”

“Yes you are and you are going to pay for it!” his attacker left him no room to speak when he gripped his neck even tighter. He wasn’t afraid of this mech, but even his pedes weren’t touching the ground and every attempt to kick him was futile…

“Hmm…” his attacker chuckled darkly to himself. “Pleasurebot. I think it suits you well…”

Sixshot gasped when the transport vehicle began to harshly open his interface panel. His hand tried to push the mech away; his pedes were kicking around in attempt to free himself. He couldn’t.

Before he knew it, his attacked was laid on the ground. Someone had hit him…why would someone help him?

He looked up to his saviour. He was a medic, from his red and white colour scheme. Small, his face was hidden by a masque and a visor. The gun in his servo wasn’t big, but it mattered not to him when he did successfully knock his attacker down.

Who was he? He couldn’t be an enforcer. Had they ever met?

The blue visor stared onto his red optiques.

No words were spoken when he woke up.

* * *

The meeting almost always ended up like this: Megatron blabbering and Starscream arguing. But knowing that his presence wasn’t required anymore, he then left the meeting room and went to his room. What was First Aid doing? Was he missed him?

Stupid flyer, he thought. Why did Megatron still have him roaming around?

“Yo, Sixshot! I missed you!” Black Shadow called him from behind and put his arm around his shoulder. “Recently returned? How go your dents?”

He sighed. “They don’t go well, fortunately.”

“So, how was the Protectobots HQ? Anything interesting?”

Memories of the Protectobots appeared in his HUD. Hot Spot having a chat with him, Groove and Streetwise chasing each other on the backyard, Blades being overprotective over First Aid, and First Aid… “Nothing in particular.”

“Awww….” Black Shadow whined, releasing his arm. The others gave them space to walk in the hallway. “Was it really that lame? Or were you just bored?”

He didn’t know what had happened? He guessed it had spread on the Decepticons, and he became the new trending topic. Well, he hadn’t seen anyone talking about him behind his back, so it was safe to just assume. Megatron also had never brought the topic up in any meeting. Sixshot almost felt sorry for Black Shadow, though. Almost. Megatron hadn’t given him any new mission; it must be very boring in the Nemesis. He chuckled a bit when he saw Black Shadow’s expression. At least his time wasn’t so much lame. Black Shadow was one of the few that weren’t afraid of him, and he liked, and grateful of, his company. Even he thought him as his friend. It reminded him of his past life…

“There wasn’t anything that caught my interest, Black Shadow.”

“So, how did Megs give you an Autobot?”

He winced. So he knew that part. “He said it was for me.”

“As your personal? Aah I want one too…”

You wouldn’t want to have one, he thought.

Suddenly he saw a flash of blue and silver running into him, then he slumped a step backward, knocking Black Shadow who yelled in protest. He looked down, and found Breakdown, trying to collect himself. His optiques were flickering a bit, then focusing on them. And then he squeaked.

“Ooh S-Sixshot… I-I-I…”

Black Shadow recovered and stepping into view, cleaning his frame, making Breakdown flinched even more and he started trembling. “What in the Pits?!”

“…a-and Black S-Shadow too… I-uh…” the Combaticon’s optiques brightened and dimmed. “I was just… you know… r-running around… a-aand sorry… I-I’m sorry…”

Sixshot stared at the small trembling Combaticon in front of him. He didn’t pay any attention to Black Shadow because he knew he would be fine, unlike Breakdown here. A few ‘Cons ran away from the scene; making the hallway looked empty, save from a small mech and 2 big Phase Sixer. Sixshot lowered himself and offered his hand to Breakdown, as like he always did to anyone who suddenly ran into him. And, like usual, the mech didn’t even have the courage to look into his hand.

“A-anyway, s-see you later… sorry ‘-bout th-the mess… I-I have to go!...” then Breakdown ran to where he came from. Sixshot sighed and watched him run.

Black Shadow was still cleaning his frame when he asked. “Who was it?”

“Breakdown.” Sixshot replied simply.

“Ugh. Stupid car.” Black Shadow looked up. “Say, Sixy, go fly at 9 tomorrow?”

Well, First Aid could handle himself, couldn’t he? Sixshot would just have to tell him not to go outside his quarter. Everything else was inside. He would also turn his console to Earth television channel so that he could watch. He hoped they wouldn’t go too long. “Okay.”

“Sweet! 9 at Launchpad!” he grinned. “Anyway, gotta go.” And he took the right turn of the end of the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Sixshot asked him, stopping his steps.

Black Shadow replied without looking back. “Launchpad. Thrusters said he needs me.”

He left him to wonder, who was Thrusters?

* * *

This was _really_ awful.

First Aid knew that he should be afraid. He was in the Decepticon base! Everyone knew that the only way out was to fly because it was in the middle of a fragging ocean! And he had no means of flying!

But, somehow, he felt not too afraid. Maybe it was because someone he knew was here?

When he woke up earlier, Sixshot was gone. He was left in his room with a note on the desk. Don’t go outside by yourself, it said, you can read the datapads in the shelf, but remember to put them where you take them. Sixshot was a tidy mech; his room wasn’t a mess. He put this thing in here and that in there. Even the other datapads in his desk was stacked up tidily beside the console.

He read a few pads. They were filled with information of Cybertronian culture, its operas and shows, its folklore and myth, its people and lifestyles, from the Age of Unification to the Golden Ages to the beginning of the Great War. They were written in Kaon dialect of Neocybex, even some were written in an older version of it and one in Primal Vernacular, and he was having a great time understanding them, though he failed to understand the one in Primal Vernacular, but it was quite a distraction, nonetheless. Who knew there existed some pads from the Age of Unification? Golden Age was very long ago to the point that almost no one remembered its culture. It also lasted long, though, ten millennia, if he wasn’t mistaken. Sixshot didn’t have any pads about Earth, though. Maybe that was the reason he wanted to go to the park?

It was a very amazing distraction. Sixshot was a cultured mech. He would want to have those at home.

He took a cube and filled it with energon, then he continued reading on the desk. It was evening; he was just discovered that his internal clock now was online again. For now, he wasn’t planning to escape because he couldn’t. He was still too weak from his injuries and the pads were too valuable to be left behind. At least he had read them. He had a plan, though, to get outside and look for the tower that would led him outside. He could still swim and then comm his brothers.

He was surprised that he could calm himself. He wasn’t panicking, a bit afraid, but not panicking nonetheless. This had to have something to do with Sixshot. Could he be the reason? Could it be because he believed Sixshot?

How could he believe a Decepticon that trapped him in his quarter?

But to think, he also did the same thing in the medbay of Protectobots HQ.

No! It wasn’t the same! He was just repairing him from his injuries! He wasn’t trapping him inside! He allowed him to go out, even asked him to go. He treated him like a patient.

He looked to the door. It wasn’t so true, he thought. Sixshot told him the code of his door, he wasn’t shackled to the wall, he could move freely, and he could do anything.

Maybe Sixshot was just returning the favour?

Hmm, maybe. Sixshot wasn’t that kind of Decepticon, though. Sure, he was cold and seemed uncaring, but it was his nature. He did care, in his own way. And his spark still acted strangely when he was close with him. Weird.

Would he allow the relationship between them grow?

He gave it to Primus. Let time show him the way. For now, he was glad he had one person to care about him. Though the other four would practically panic by now. He should be telling them that he was fine.

Comm them, yes! Why didn’t he try? Why didn’t anyone try to comm him?

Checking his comm link status, he was quite surprised that it was closed. He put down the datapad he had been reading. Maybe Hook closed it? Even his gestalt bond was also closed. Did they put a jammer on him? They had to be!

He wouldn’t be surprised that if he tried to open the link, it couldn’t be opened. So he was very surprised when it opened. He tried the same with the gestalt bond and it opened with ease; he felt the other four in his spark suddenly swarmed him, filling him with concern, worries, and anger. As if he had gone forever. He sent soothing emotion through the bond.

Seventeen missed calls and a thousand unread messages were waiting for him. Ignoring them, he sighed and tried to call Hot Spot on private channel, in case his communication was monitored by Soundwave.

\-- 1637: “Hot Spot?”

\-- 1637: “First Aid?! Thank Primus! Are you alright?! Did they hurt you?!”

First Aid sighed with relief as he heard his commander’s voice talking to him. It had really felt like forever.

\-- 1637: “I’m fine. They didn’t do anything to me.”

\-- 1637: “Why are you using private channel? We were worried sick! Where are you now?”

He could also hear the sigh of relief on his commander’s voice, like a heavy burden had just lifted off his shoulder. The other three also felt the same.

\-- 1638: “I’m sorry. I have to use private channel if Soundwave was monitoring communications. Tell the others that I’m okay.”

\-- 1638: “I’m glad to hear that. Optimus has made contacting you as our top priority now.” A bit of static. “How was their brig?”

The light humour was audible. He knew, Hot Spot was trying to make him less tense.

\-- 1638: “Actually, I’m not placed in the brig. I’m in Sixshot’s quarter.”

\-- 1638: “You’re in _his_ quarter?! Did he try something on you?!”

Hot Spot was a bit panicked. If he dared to touch his medic…

\-- 1639: “He’s not.” First Aid paused a bit. “He has been… nice to me.”

\-- 1639: “Nice?”

\-- 1639: “He didn’t force me. He didn’t bind me to the wall and put a leash on me. I was free to walk.”

\-- 1639: “He… did?”

\-- 1639: “Yeah… maybe he was just returning me the favour…”

Hot Spot sighed.

\-- 1640: “Okay, as long as you’re fine. We’re planning t—sorry, have to stop there. Just know that you’re going to be free again.”

\-- 1640: “Okay, thanks. But don’t hurt him, okay?”

\-- 1640: “Hurt who?”

\-- 1640: “Sixshot.”

There was a pause again, thicker this time.

\-- 1641: “I can’t promise, but we’ll try. For now, just keep yourself safe.”

\-- 1641: “Thank you. First Aid out.”

He sighed and relaxed his frame that he wasn’t realised was tense. He would be free soon.

The door opened.

Sixshot saw him from the doorframe, and he entered. The moment he saw Sixshot, he stood up and took the datapads, making the desk clean again. The other’s expression wasn’t readable because of the masque, but he arched his optical ridge.

“You can continue reading. I don’t mind.”

“Y-yes. Thank you.” First Aid didn’t continue reading. He put the datapads back into the shelf and he sat on the berth, not knowing that to do. Sixshot went to the washrack and returned, turning on the console.

“So, uh,” he fought the nervousness in his tanks. “How goes the meeting?”

Typing, he answered. “Like usual. It ended with Megatron and Starscream arguing.”

“Oh.” First Aid looked down, didn’t have anything to ask.

“Tomorrow I will go flying with Black Shadow.” Sixshot said, looking at him. First Aid looked up. “You can come. Would you?”

“I-I…” Maybe it was his chance to escape! But where could he come? He couldn’t fly. “How can I come?”

“You can…” Sixshot was quiet for a second. “You can fly on me.”

Silence fell over them.

Sixshot coughed. “Have you contacted your friends?” Friends, hm?

“I have.” Perhaps it was better that he told Sixshot. “They’re planning a rescue plan for me.”

“Good.” The bigger mech’s frame rumbled with approval.

Wait, what? “Good?”

“I can tell that you aren’t quite comfortable here. But I planned to take you home tomorrow.”

What?! Sixshot himself planned to help him escape?

“But later on you have to return here, though. It’s to avoid suspicion. Black Shadow will come along. I believe him. You can take a night or two on your HQ, but you still have to return here. Tell your Autobots that they don’t need to plan, just meet us in the park.”

Park? What park? “Park?”

“The one where we walked on together.”

Oh, city park.

“You still have to attend Christmas, don’t you?”

He remembered. “Yes, I do. The carnaval will begin in 5 days, I think.”

Silence passed again. They both were looking away from each other.

“So, uh…” the ambulance began.

“Would you like to watch TV?” There was some awkwardness in the six-changer’s voice. He sat on the berth beside First Aid.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holiday is near \:v/ 
> 
> Well, I sorta thought that Black Shadow wouldn’t be afraid of Sixshot. Why would he? They’re on the same class, same strength, and he cares about the other Phase Sixer. Mainly it’s because Sixshot is the one of the only ones he could really talk to, Overlord being a total jerk and nuts and Tarn is far away. And he’s a good cuddler :3
> 
> I’m not that familiar with his personality, though. I assume he’s just like RiD Sideswipe, kinda-jerk-but-cares and easy-going. And Sixshot thought that he cares because he has something to do with him, not because he truly cares *wink wink* but oh yes he does


	13. Dua Belas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter I write .-. oh and some Angst ahead,  
>   
> Well, Black Shadow turned to be a bigger version of Brawl :3 but he could be like Blast Off or Soundwave at times.

“What took you so long? It’s 1104.”

“Sorry.” Black Shadow ran to the other Phase Sixer. “I had to ask big M first. And he was attending a meeting. I had to wait for 2 hours outside the meeting room!” He then saw a small red and white figure standing near Sixshot. “Who is this?”

Sixshot looked at First Aid, who seemed to try to hide himself behind his larger frame. “This is First Aid.”

Black Shadow’s optiques brightened a few moments. “Oh, so that’s the Autobots Megs gave you?” he grinned at the Autobot.

First Aid was nervous for seeing Black Shadow. He was another Phase Sixer; who knew what could he do? He was thankful that they didn’t meet many ‘Cons on their way to the Launchpad, only Soundwave, who didn’t ask them.

But, Black Shadow was as tall as Sixshot.

“You’re cute.” He said to the ambulance.

Well, that was a good sign.

“I’m Black Shadow. How do you call yourself?”

“First Aid.” As long as he didn’t do anything to harm him. He was fine

“Can we go now?” Sixshot snapped at him, looking at them.

“Sorry.” The jet chuckled a bit. “Can’t hold myself.”

First Aid had to hold onto Sixshot as they fly. The sky was friendly for a flight; there was slow wind, and the sunlight wasn’t too warm. The temperature was a few above 0° C, not too cold so that their engines wouldn’t take too long to run. Blue Sky and Blue Ocean were the only things they could see, save for occasional snow falling slowly.

First Aid was holding tightly to Sixshot’s jet mode. The rumble and the warmth of a strong engine made him feel safe, just like Hot Spot. Sixshot was warm, and he seemed didn’t mind being touched. He looked to Black Shadow. So far, the jet didn’t say anything. But they seemed to exchange talks one another.

\-- Black Shadow @ 1110: “So, you’re an Autobot?”

It was Black Shadow comming him over their shared channel.

\-- First Aid @ 1110: “I am…?”

\-- Black Shadow @ 1111: “Cool. What do you do? You’re a medic right? From your colour.” The tone he used wasn’t all threatening. It was like Streetwise when the first he met the head police officer.

\-- First Aid @ 1111: “I’m a medic-in-training. I’m yet to achieve that rank.” A bit of silence. “Black Shadow?”

\-- Black Shadow @ 1111: “Hm?”

\-- First Aid @ 1112: “Are you new here? I’m sorry, I have never seen you before.”

\-- Black Shadow @ 1112: “Yep. Just got transferred here a few orns ago. Megs said he needed me. Didn’t know why, though. He hasn’t given me any new mission.”

\-- First Aid @ 1112: “Oh…”

\-- Sixshot @ 1113: “He was transferred a few orns after me. A few months, if you prefer.”

\-- Black Shadow @ 1113: “Months?”

\-- Sixshot @ 1113: “Humane time measurement. Equal with 2 orns. The inhabitants of this planet, human, have their own time measurement system.”

\-- Black Shadow @ 1114: “I heard that they’re an interesting species.”

\-- Sixshot @ 1114: “They are.”

They saw a few big creatures on the surface of the ocean. Some of it launched water from their head.

\-- Black Shadow @ 1117: “What are those?”

\-- First Aid @ 1117: “They’re whales. Big mammals that inhabit the ocean.”

\-- Black Shadow @ 1118: “Do they always do that?”

\-- First Aid @ 1118: “They only do that when they need to breathe, which isn’t too often.”

Sixshot just listened to First Aid explaining whales to Black Shadow.

\-- Black Shadow @ 1127: “Anyway, Aid—can I call you Aid?—where do you come from?”

\-- First Aid @ 1127: “I was built here, on this planet.”

\-- Black Shadow @ 1128: “Wow. Must be something new.”

Sixshot internally nodded. That was something new.

\-- First Aid @ 1128: “I’ve never gone to Cybertron. I was always here since the day I was built. You know, to protect the humans.”

\-- Black Shadow @ 1129: “From… the likes of us?”

First Aid stopped his thoughts. Oh yeah, he remembered. Black Shadow was a Phase Sixer. His job is to prepare planets before cyberforming. If Megatron had called him here, it could mean one thing…

But, this planet was too rich with energy, he had heard Megs said that.

\-- First Aid @ 1130: “From itself.” He chose his words. “Humanity isn’t really a stable thing. There’s still some humans who do against the law or natural disaster that needed to be done with.”

\-- Sixshot @ 1130: “There’s much to this planet that I’m sure you would enjoy.” Sixshot added. “It’s nothing like we have encountered on other planets.”

Sixshot… supported him?

They entered the land. It was a nice contrast between the blue of the ocean and the white of snow. The beach was empty; perhaps the humans were at work? First Aid didn’t know.

He commed Hot Spot that they would arrive shortly.

\-- Sixshot @ 1135: “Black Shadow?”

\-- Black Shadow @ 1135: “Yeah?”

\-- Sixshot @ 1135: “Can you not tell Megatron that we are going to meet the Autobots?”

\-- Black Shadow @ 1135: “We’re going to meet them?” he laughed a bit. “Awesome! I’ve always wondered how does Optimus Prime look up close!”

Sixshot chuckled. First Aid smiled.

-

“So, uh, thank you, Sixshot, for bringing him here.” Hot Spot spoke to him.

“He has to return with me the time I leave. Megatron is occupied for this week so that I have the time to take him.”

Blades stared at him. Optimus Prime looked quite pleased behind them, and Groove was holding a snicker beside First Aid.

“I wasn’t wrong, was I?” he said, grinning. “He got the looks.”

First Aid didn’t respond him.

“We’re going to hold a carnaval here in a few days. It would be very much appreciated if you could help.”

Sixshot pondered. “Black Shadow?” wait, he wasn’t beside him. “Black Shadow?”

He looked behind, and found the other Phase Sixer was messing around with Streetwise, Jazz, and a dark green truck he didn’t remember his name.

He sighed; Hot Spot smirked in amusement.

“I think I’d be staying here for a few hours.”

“Sweet!” Groove shouted behind First Aid. “Let’s get the party started!”

The party turned to be them preparing for Christmas. The Protectobot HQ was now filled with all Christmas-y things that Sixshot didn’t know. There were, uh, socks, wasn’t it? It was small and was hung on the walls, red and white. For what were they for, he didn’t know. He hadn’t bothered to learn about human cultures and customs.

He felt sorry, though, that the Decepticons destroyed their HQ once again. Most of the walls were now fixed, but they hadn’t yet repainted. The sofas, fortunately, weren’t affected, or had they got some new ones? The medbay and their rooms also weren’t affected.

What he thought that he’d be staying for a few hours, turned to be a night. Soundwave wouldn’t bother to open the Launchpad at night-time without an order from Megatron, so he supposed that he’d be staying for a night. It was past 19 when he helped Hot Spot moved the TV and its desk into the kitchen, and when he went back to the outside, he saw Black Shadow, Grimlock and the dark green truck from earlier were lifting a quite massive tree. To where did they lift it, he didn’t want to know. His work here was quite done.

“Energon?” First Aid suddenly came and offering him a cube.

Sixshot took it and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Well,” First Aid said sheepishly. “Thank you for bringing me back here. I mean, though I have to go back later. Megatron was okay with this?”

“He doesn’t even care what on Earth was happening for this week.” Sixshot took a gulp. “He was busy. All of us, actually. Some issues with off-planet, I think.”

“Off-planet?”

“I don’t know exactly. He didn’t bring the subject at the meeting I attended.” He took a gulp again. “We shouldn’t be talking about it.”

“You’re better with your masque off.” First Aid squeaked. “No, forget what did I say!”

Sixshot huffed in confusion.

“Uh, let’s just go to the backyard.”

The backyard was quiet. The stars weren’t visible at the sky, only the moon lit up the snowing sky. The benches that were destroyed when he left this place were now fixed, though the walls weren’t fully fixed. They sit on a set of small stairs under the door, taking a sip of their beverages.

Sixshot thought to himself, why was he doing this? These Autobots… why had he fraternised himself with them? He was supposed to destroy their HQ; it was only a step on a set of missions Megatron gave him. Megatron hadn’t asked him about it, though, maybe he was still too busy, or he didn’t yet want to get rid of the Autobots.

What had changed within himself?

He should have killed First Aid when he was repaired an orn ago. Then he would have proceeded in killing more of them, one by one. And when he had come back, Megatron would have congratulated him, and he would’ve been sent to another part of the galaxy…

“What are you thinking about?”

“What?” Sixshot asked, having woken up from his musings. “Nothing.”

“You’re quieter.”

“I was just wondering where do Black Shadow bring that tree to.” Well, that wasn’t exactly a lie.

“They’re taking them to the park. That’s city park, you know.” First Aid took a sip. “The main event of Christmas will be held there.”

Silence fell over them again.

“Well, uh, thanks, I guess, for taking me here. I really appreciate it.” First Aid chuckled slightly. “And just when we, I mean, they were planning to rescue me.”

Sixshot looked at him.

“I… I feel safe with you.” First Aid continued. “Well, it’s Decepticon base and the only one I know personally was you.”

Personally. That word ringed in the Phase Sixer’s audio. Seeing First Aid like this, relaxed and his masque off, making his spark spun weirdly again. This… weird feeling he had been feeling made him wonder to himself, is that blast from Wheeljack’s weapon had some side effects? That could be the most logical answer. But he felt it only when he was close with this medic…

“I-I know you’re having a hard time with me around. But, thanks a lot.” First Aid looked at him, smiling with his visor bright.

Sixshot just stared at those bright blue visor, unable to find the words. Why was his spark pulsed and spun so fast?

“I don’t know whether you’re just returning the favour or not… but I feel like you’re a part of my life now.” First Aid looked away and chuckled lightly. “Streetwise would say you’re my older brother. Blades would be totally jealous.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Sixshot finally said.

“I owe you my life for protecting me in the Decepticon base.” First Aid took a gulp from his energon. “I was afraid when I was taken as hostage or a slave, but now I don’t feel like one with you.”

“I have no interests in slaves.” Sixshot looked at his cube. “They’re rather making me uncomfortable. A mech is a mech; one shouldn’t treat a mech like he is.”

“So, you rather not taking hostages?”

Sixshot blinked at the words. It struck him when he detected some kind of fear in the medic’s voice. The medic visibly tensed. He knew that the medic knew that he was a Phase Sixer, and his job is to bring total destruction to anything his superior commanded him. But, he didn’t mean that… “I…”

First Aid looked down. He suddenly felt afraid if Sixshot decided to shoot him suddenly. “It’s okay, I understand.”

“I don’t usually take hostages. I would free them if I could.”

First Aid just chuckled nervously.

Why was he felt like he was doing a wrong job? He was a Phase Sixer, for frag’s sake, it was his job! It was his purpose…

Was it?

He remembered talking to a mech whose name he didn’t remember. He stared his cube. It was a night in Helex, before he moved to Kaon. They were sitting in front of a bar in downtown Helex. He didn’t remember the mech’s name or face, but he was his friend. Friend.

_“…one day, you’ll find him, don’t worry.”_

_“Wake up! We’re just a lowly… …We can’t even take care of ourselves! How… …possibly take care of another?”_

_“Hey, life’s changing! Today you’re… …know where you’d be 10 surorn from…”_

_“I don’t know… …can do that.”_

_“…remember, though, make sure you’re not hurting… …be bad, and disregarding.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Just remember that… …better if whatever you do, it helps people.”_

_“They… …care about me! Why should… …them?”_

_“…they’re the reason we’re here.”_

He then realised, could he be… no, he couldn’t… could he?

“So, uh, what is this Christmas the humans want to celebrate?” he asked, wanting to change the topic.

“It’s a religious matter.” First Aid replied, still with a hint of fear in his voice. “They celebrate the birth of their saviour. Well, most of them. Not all of people on this planet celebrates it.”

“Why not?”

“Not all people on this planet have the same religion.”

“Oh.” Sixshot took a gulp. “So why are you celebrating it too? I mean, the Protectobots?”

“To get a better relationship with the humans. Public relation.”

“Why are you so interested in them, anyway?”

“They are unique.” First Aid smiled a bit. “Very different from us in some way, yet very same.”

Sixshot looked at him.

“Sometimes I wonder how can a small being, smaller than my servo even, that comprised with a billion cells could work. They’re so small, so fragile. They can’t fly, run at high speed, survive in naked space, yet they able to build this civilisation of theirs. I wonder how did they do this, build all of this.”

Sixshot chuckled at the voice full of wonder of First Aid, feeling glad that the tension from earlier was pretty much gone now.

“But I also wonder. This planet has over than 150 countries, with their own governments, more than 6 billion humans. But yet,” First Aid looked down at his cube. “they are able to live together. Yes, there exist some conflicts and wars in the past, even now, but, they pretty much get along. Why can’t we Cybertronians do the same?”

The Phase Sixer went silent, staring at First Aid. The medic-in-training stared down into his nearly empty cube. “We only have two governments and less than two billion in number, why can’t we get along?” He shook his cube softly, his tone getting lower. “Why can’t the War stop? I’m sure pretty much of us got tired of this War. Why do there’re still Autobots and Decepticons? Can’t we just use the term Cybertronian broader? The humans use the term American, French, Indian, Australian only referring to the country they’re come from, not a faction they come from. In other contexts, they use the word Human or Humane.”

Tension came back to the ambulance’s frame. Sixshot looked down to his cube, somehow feeling the same thing. It was true. The War had raged over a million years in a human year, why can’t it stop? Why did Megatron still have the spirit to keep fighting? They had fulfilled their original intention, to take the Senate down, why did they continue more?

“Maybe I and my brothers are the only Cybertronian who haven’t even seen their home planet.” He chuckled sadly. “We were brought to Vector Sigma to be given life, but we got activated here. Haven’t even got the chance to at least look at home. Only being able to see it by videos, how bad the war destroyed our planet, our only place in the universe that we can call home so that we have to move out and find new ones until we forgot our own.” He smiled bitterly at his words; those were for himself. In a part, he hated himself for thinking Earth as his home. He was too accustomed to their culture until he couldn’t even know his race’s own. “The humans had two world wars, but they didn’t destroy their planet so that they have to move out. We, on the other hand, only have one, yet it raged for a millennium or more, I even lost count, and destroyed our home.”

Sixshot could feel the ambulance’s frame was trembling slightly. A few drop of lubricant fell from his cheek. His voice cracked. The energon cube he was holding was still, utterly still in his servos. His tires were rolling softly.

“I-I just… want the War to stop. I just want to see home. I just want us to get along. I just… I just want… to live a normal life… I-I… want to know… why are we… fighting each other… killing each other…? What is the… reason?”

He didn’t know how to manage this situation without upsetting First Aid more.

“There’s still some good things we can see.” He began to speak in low tone, choosing his words carefully. “The war forced us to innovate. We found the quantum generator, gestalt technology, and dark-matter drive in the middle of the war.”

“Including your ability to have 5 different alt modes.” First Aid added, chuckling sadly.

“But the point is, we can improvise under pressure.” He took the ambulance’s hand, ignoring the rather confused face of its owner. His red optiques stared into the blue visor, reading utter sadness and broken spark. “And if we can survive a millennium of war that ravaged our planet, we can survive the harshness of the universe.

We’ll find a way to go back home. We’ll find a way to get our lives again.”

First Aid looked away in shame. He shouldn’t be telling this to an enemy… an enemy? “I’m sorry, you have to hear me ranting like that. But thank you, though, for listening to me.”

“Don’t be,” Sixshot assured him, his larger frame shifted closer to the smaller one. Those weird feelings came again. “We all have our opinions and voices, and that’s a right for everyone to speak it.”

“I just… don’t know what to do exactly.”

“Do what you do. I’m re-forged for the War. I don’t even know what did I do before it started. But now I found it out again.”

First Aid looked up to him. He put the energon cube he had been holding as Sixshot took his other hand.

“Black Shadow and you made me feel more like a mech, not a drone. Megatron expects me to be his drone, his inferior was only a better way of saying it. While we cannot escape our owner’s will, we found how does it feel to be free again from each other. Now I found it more in you. And I thank you for that.”

First Aid stared at him.

“We shouldn’t be like this.” First Aid then said, and for a moment, Sixshot got a wrong impression. “It’s Christmas and we’re mourning our burdens. We should be thankful of that we have now.” He closed his eyes and allowed himself to his cheek be swept of lubricants by Sixshot.

“What does it mean?”

“Almost every human’s holidays are representing happiness, joy, and hope. A new life, a new hope.” He tried to smile and failed, trying to cover his anxiousness and sadness. “We shouldn’t be mourning of what’s passed.”

Sixshot allowed himself to smile this time. The corners of his mouth drifted upward as he embraced the medic. “So, no hard feeling?”

First Aid chuckled softly at that. “You’re using human term now?”

“That television show you forced me to watch is getting influential to me.”

“So… I have to force you more?”

Sixshot laughed a little.

* * *

Black Shadow and he had to be staying on the medbay. There is a guest room, but only for one mech, so Sixshot suggested that they stay on the medbay, like he did a surorn ago. The shelf used to hide hid berth was gone; it was positioned back into the wall.

“I kinda enjoy being here.” Black Shadow said, hopping on the berth beside Sixshot’s. “They’re kinda good.”

“Quite hard to believe when we’re the source of their problems,” Sixshot replied, not looking up from a datapad he had been reading.

“Well, big M had to end this fragging War. I’m starting to get bored of it.”

This made Sixshot look up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I’m getting bored of it. And—why is their berth so small? My wings won’t fit—we could reaaaly get back home to rebuild. I don’t know what Megs think about all this stuff.”

Sixshot stared at him.

“Hey, don’t stare at me like it was a usual thing to do.” Black Shadow laid on his back and tried to shuffle his wings. “I go to a planet, observe it, then destroy it. That’s all I do. It’s getting boring by now.”

“Maybe you should take an off-duty.”

“When I’m off-duty, what can I do? I used to hang around with my friends a lifetime before. Now who can I talk to? You’re often in duty, Overlord’s just crazy I can’t help myself, Tarn is far away. Other than you three I practically have no one to talk to.” He closed his optiques. “Turn the lamps off, I should defrag my drives.”

Sixshot put the datapad he read on the bedside table and… the drawer. He opened it and surprised to find First Aid’s scarf was still there. He took and examined it. Nothing has changed since the day he put it there.

He turned off the lamps, still holding the scarf in his servos.

“Anyway, Sixy, a nice cute Autobot you have.” Black Shadow said with a teasing tone in his voice.

Sixshot actually felt his cheeks heated a bit.

“Shut up and go sleep.”


	14. Tiga Belas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* Daddy Optimus knows everything *whispers*

Sixshot let out a pleased groan as he felt the water on his frame. The grimes and dirty snows that yesterday had collected were washed away. He leant back on the wall, his engines giving away a deep but soft and steady rumble. He turned off and closed his optiques, focusing on the sensation the water created on his frame.

When the meeting was ended earlier, he took the time as fast as he could to take a rest in his quarter because that meant he could get away from a grumpy and angry Megatron. Whatever caused it, he didn’t want to know. Of course it wasn’t he and Black Shadow; if they were, they wouldn’t be able to leave the meeting room without a big telling off from Megatron, and maybe a few dents on their frames.

Though the carnaval hadn’t finished, he had to went back to the base so that no one would be suspicious. Christmas is tomorrow, or two days later, and he promised the Protectobots that he would come. And he wasn’t one to break promises.

He washed other parts of his frames. He sighed softly when he remembered First Aid earlier. Running around the street, decorating the streetlamps, giving candies (candies, weren’t it?) to the children, he wasn’t shy like usually was. And Sixshot watched him from afar.

He looked down at his hands and pondered. He didn’t need anyone, really. How many consoles had he hacked? How many vehicles had he exploded? How many people had he killed?

How many deaths had happened in these hands?

To think that he was still a killing machine. He wasn’t mindless, he had sentiments of his own. Megatron perhaps saw him like only he was a weapon. A one-robot army. But he wasn’t. It was undeniable that he was a weapon, a living weapon. But wasn’t every living thing had feelings of their own? He had done everything by himself. Alone. Travelled alone. Finished his job alone. He was accustomed being alone. Three million years had he spent his time alone.

He had fooled himself good enough all this time that loneliness was his best friend.

Then he met Black Shadow. They talked. And oh he couldn’t deny that it was very good to have someone to talk to again. He let himself enjoy the feeling of being able to talk, knowing that for him it wouldn’t interfere with his job. But now it did.

He should have killed all those Autobots. Protectobots. The attack back a few months ago was meant to eradicate one of their combiners. It was his objective. The other Decepticon who accompanied him were only a cover. Not that he needed one anyway.

Then he met First Aid. And the small medic was either kind or stupid enough to fix him.

A part of himself wanted to kill the medic after he was fixed and operable again, but another didn’t. He had pride, code of honour. He respected courage; he knew when he was in someone’s dette. He had to pay it back. Even if it was the enemy to whom he had the dette. His code of honour made sure one day if the medic were dead, it wouldn’t be at his hands.

And now his reluctance turned out to be wrong. He began to act soft. To think soft. He knew that he owed his life to the medic, but now he thought that it was better if the medic wasn’t by his side at all times. He did the wrong thing. This was all his fault. The faux emotion that he had been convinced himself that those were real was now began to blur. His loneliness once again began to be felt. Letting him live wasn’t enough to pay the dette.

He also owed Megatron his life. Three point five million years of service for his master wasn’t enough. He was rebuilt to be his weapon. And now he began to think that it was enough. His loyalty was one that needed to be earned. Megatron had been playing with it like it was a small toy within his hands.

But, he thought, it was partially true.

He had been at fault to let himself be familiar with the medic. And now, he let himself be familiar with the rest of the Autobots. Weak. Befriending the enemy. Fraternising with them. It would be clear that he was weak, he had gone soft.

He should’ve never gone to them. He shouldn’t have helped them. He shouldn’t have accepted the gratitude and the courage they had given him.

Well, thinking about the past would never change what had passed.

But one question for him left unanswered. Why? Why did the medic fix him? His answer didn’t make any sense to him.

Maybe he should really meet Hook to have him analyse his spark, for it continued to pulse faster than it should be. Seeing First Aid so happy somehow made him happy. Like he was meant to be there for him. He felt like the medic was a missing part of himself.

He sighed and frowned; maybe it was just him having a company. A friend.

Friend. That described the ambulance better.

He cared about him and vice versa. But the fact that he was almost always by his side made his spark felt funny. Not that the ambulance had anywhere else to be anyway.

Just like now. He turned off the water and stepped off the washrack, ignoring the solvents, his frame was still shiny anyway. He saw First Aid and Black Shadow on his berth, discussing something over a datapad. He sighed and kept the feelings to himself as he approached.

* * *

The Protectobot base was unusually quiet compared to what happened a few hours ago. Blades, who would be the loudest of them all, locked himself in his room. The others were beginning to recharge. Hot Spot busied himself with the console, not caring about the night that began to age. He was managing the files and reports about today that Ultra Magnus would surely love to read. Some reports were invalid and he had to fix them.

The medbay felt empty without First Aid. Though most rooms were decorated, the medbay wasn’t. Hot Spot had been there before, picking up some staples. And it felt unusually quiet and hollow. No shy words of a medic he deeply cared about. It had been only 3 or 4 days, but he missed First Aid greatly. The medic was his responsibility. Whatever happened to him, he had to take care of it.

But he didn’t know how to get him back.

Sixshot perhaps spared his life by letting him live in as his slave. He didn’t know what suddenly had changed the Phase Sixer’s spark, maybe it was just him paying back First Aid for fixing him before. He didn’t exactly know, but he thanked Sixshot for it.

“Working overtime, Hot Spot?”

Sixshot turned his head to the source of the voice. It was Optimus Prime.

“Just taking care of reports, sir.” He answered.

One thing Optimus liked about the Protectobots leader was that he knew when to act official and not. “You’re going to be like Ultra Magnus when you’re older.” He chuckled, taking another chair and sat beside Hot Spot.

Hot Spot chuckled.

“What brings you here, sir?”

“I was just taking a night drive, then I passed around here and saw the door hasn’t closed yet. Then I think, why don’t I pay a visit?”

Hot Spot finished the reports. “Even after the carnaval?”

“Well, yes. I’m not disturbing you, am I not?”

“N-no, sir. You’re not.” Hot Spot turned off the console. “Energon, sir?”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Optimus was silent for a moment as Hot Spot was doing something on his datapad. “So, Hot Spot, what do you think about Sixshot and First Aid?”

He put the datapad down. “Sixshot and First Aid?” He sighed. “Honestly I don’t even know what to think about them.”

Optimus kept quiet, silently telling him to continue.

“I'm grateful though that Sixshot hasn’t kill him yet. Even they seemed like they care about each other.”

“Care about each other?”

“Yes. No. I meant—you know how do they like.” He looked down, feeling ashamed.

“I wouldn’t be mad at you, or anyone for that matter, to fall in love with a Decepticon.” Optimus said, looking far. “It’s not like we can control ourselves.”

“No, sir, it’s not like that.” Yes, it shouldn’t be. “I didn’t mean that he fell for him. But rather—”

“You can see it in their optiques, can’t you?”

He looked up, surprised. “See…?”

“I can tell whether one falls for another. I don’t know exactly about First Aid, but I can tell about Sixshot. Some kind of trust is building within him, and that kind of trust can continue to be a relationship, a bond.”

“You mean they’ll be bonded?!”

“Possibly. I can’t really believe it, though, that they will be bonded. Sixshot wouldn’t even know that he has that look. That kind of trust was the same as Wheeljack and Ratchet’s when they first met each other.” Optimus smiled softly behind his masque at him. “And now they have your team, and the Dinobots.”

“Yeah, mom and dad.” Hot Spot looked down, chuckling. “So, you mean they’re developing some kind of relationship?”

“They are. I myself cannot even believe that a Decepticon Phase Sixer would fall for an Autobot medic.” Optimus grimaced to himself. “Nonetheless, it could give us some kind of advantage. I’m not telling First Aid to spy on them, but there would be times when the other Decepticons accidentally speaks about their future missions or plans when First Aid is within hearing range. Sixshot preferably would, but I would respect him did he tell First Aid not to talk about it.”

“Oh…” Hot Spot looked at the console. Maybe letting First Aid fix Sixshot wasn’t exactly a good idea. They didn’t kill each other, yes, but this wasn’t how he thought the rest would happen. Yes, he admitted, Sixshot got the looks, but he was still a Decepticon. And First Aid was faaar too young. Not that he was any older, though. “Optimus, sir?”

“Yes, Hot Spot?”

“Why are you so calm and undisturbed to know that First Aid is in Decepticon hand?”

Optimus looked at him. Those blue optiques stared to the console, looking far away. Hot Spot of course was disturbed that First Aid was in Decepticon hand; he was his superior, his older brother. His responsibility.

He smiled softly behind his masque. “Because I know Sixshot wouldn’t do him any harm. And if any Decepticon does it, Sixshot will stand in line to protect him.”

Hot Spot sighed. Yes, Sixshot wouldn’t do him any harm.

“You still have much to learn, Hot Spot.”

“Including to believe the enemy?”

“Tell me, Hot Spot, what is an enemy?” Optimus asked him back.

He sighed again. “One that you’re competing with…?”

“And do we competing with him to get our hands on First Aid?”

Hot Spot was quiet for a moment. “…no.”

“So it is. I know Sixshot from the days of war. I’ve never faced him, though. But I do know one thing about him: he is never one to break promises. He told you he’d bring First Aid to the carnaval, did he not?”

“Yes, he did.” Hot Spot replied, looking at the Prime.

“He did come, didn’t he? And he will come at Christmas, because he said he will.”

“He only said he will, Optimus, he didn’t say he promised.”

“Everything you say is a promise, Hot Spot. Remember that.” Hot Spot looked at him. “So, be careful of anything you say.”

Hot Spot looked down.

“Either way, don’t worry too much about him. You still have other responsibility here. We’ll try our best to bring First Aid back. Sixshot said himself: he cannot just take First Aid here and leave him, Megatron will ask him. We will have to make some sort of prisoner exchange.”

“And who is our prisoner?”

“That’s what has been troubling me. This is a secret between us and Sixshot, so the prisoner is tricky. It couldn’t be Sixshot because he has to be the one who agrees on a prisoner exchange, and it couldn’t be any other Decepticon because they would know the idea. So it leaves us with the ones that Sixshot trusts and cares about so that Megatron would ask him.”

Hm, Hot Spot thought, this isn’t easy. They had to have some inside mech. “What about we pick some random Decepticon, then—no, it won’t do.”

Silence. They both were thinking about who could be the prisoner.

“How about Black Shadow?”

“Black Shadow?”

“Well, Sixshot seems trust him. He wouldn’t bring him here along.” Hot Spot said, recalling when Black Shadow was in the Protectobot base.

“So he is. We’ll try tomorrow.” Optimus said, smiling under his masque. “The night’s getting late, you should go get some rest.”

“Will do, sir.” He replied, standing up. “You should do it too.”

“I still have a night drive to complete.” Optimus said, standing and patting Hot Spot’s shoulder. “Tomorrow.” And then he left the Protectobot base.

Hot Spot watched him leave. “Tomorrow.”

* * *

Sixshot tensed, surprised at Megatron’s order. Beside him, Thundercracker took a step back, not wanting to be near a deranged Phase Sixer. “Excuse me, my Lord?”

“Did your audios malfunctioned, Sixshot? You are to go to Vagitanus IX tomorrow. Check the planet for any resources to be found. I heard that there are some threatening creatures crawling upon that planet, so I chose you to do some exploring.” Megatron replied, an annoyed tone in his voice as he fiddled with some datapads in his table.

“By myself, my Lord?”

“I expect you to take the Autobot with you. You have trained him well.”

Sixshot tensed even more. “When do you expect me to go, my Lord?”

“0520 at tomorrow. A shuttle has already been prepared for you.”

“Yes, my Lord. Do you expect something when I return?”

“I expect some samples.” Megatron replied, not even looking at him. “Those are for Shockwave to inspect.”

“Yes, my Lord. I shall take my leave tomorrow.”

“Good. Now you’re dismissed.”

Taking that as cue to leave, he stood up and left the room. Tomorrow is Christmas; he and First Aid were supposed to go to the Protectobot base. How could he deliver this news to First Aid? He said himself to the Protectobots that he would come. He couldn’t just go and dismiss it.

He passed Blast Off on the hallway. Blast Off nodded to him, and he nodded back. Ugh, this is confusing.

He couldn’t leave First Aid at the base, Megatron expected him to bring him along. He wouldn’t mind being in a confined space with the ambulance; his room wasn’t so large. But would First Aid want to go?

Perhaps he should take another bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Vagitanus is Roman god responsible to make the first cry of a newborn baby, if you're curious.  
> Yes! Sixshot and First Aid in an Adventure around the Space! \ :v /


	15. Empat Belas - Bagian 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys, for the wait. I'm very occupied with school, and now's the first semester of 2016 I have to do more projects from school. I'm going to go to college \yay/ after I graduated high school this year. But before that, I have to do 3 projects first, so I'll update less often than usual. Thank you for bearing with me uwu  
>   
> Oh and I don't know how should I write Primal Vernacular, so I take Latin as its representation. I think I'll be using more languages, especially Romance languages that are descended from Latin, as representation of Cybertronian languages. _When_ they need to be written.

First Aid woke up in a strange room he didn’t recognise.

The ceiling was pale black, unlike the usual grey he had been accustomed to in Sixshot’s room. He groaned and looked around. The room was significantly smaller. Only a console was there beside the berth, it was turned off. The light was dim, the lamps were turned off, the only source of light was that which shone through a small gap under the door.

This couldn’t be the brig, if the Decepticons suddenly made him their prisoner, he wasn’t shackled to the berth. There were no energon bars or disturbing equipments that made him feel uneasy. His processors finished spinning, and he sat up.

Where was him, he thought, and where was Sixshot? He was still in the possession of the six changer, right?

He stood up and exited the room, to find himself seeing at a big window of a shuttle’s control panel, showing a grand mass of stars, and a Phase Sixer he recently knew.

They were in space?!

“Sixshot?” He walked to the control panel’s seat where the Phase Sixer sat, slowly and cautiously, staring at his broad shoulder. “You didn’t tell me that we’re going off-planet.”

Sixshot looked over his shoulder, silently gesturing the ambulance to come closer.

First Aid walked to near the seat, suddenly feeling afraid. He knew this Decepticon, but not all of him. Decepticons were always full of surprises. Who knew he’d then decide to rape him…

“I wasn’t able to tell you because you were asleep last night. Megatron ordered me to go to Vagitanus IX and bring you with me.”

“Uh… yeah… b-but… shouldn’t we attend Christmas?”

“I told Hot Spot that we wouldn’t come.”

First Aid grimaced. “At least you could tell me before…?”

“You were asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Oh, well, that was… quite reasonable. But still, he promised his team that he’ll come at Christmas! He couldn’t just leave like this! Blades would be angry! The event wouldn’t be complete without him at the base…

“I know it’s hard not to attend it, but at least they know why couldn’t you come.” Sixshot took hold of his arm. “I also want to come.”

Well, there went the Decepticon way of saying „I’m sorry“.

“You have never gone from Earth, have you?” the Phase Sixer continued, a slight portion of hope and amusement rang in his voice. “I hope this would make you feel better.”

First Aid looked to the window and nearly gasped. Oh yeah, he forgot, he was off-planet, surrounded by stars and light. And feel better he did. He did see plenty of stars and views of space from TV shows and some recordings of the Autobots, but now he fully understood that to see and to experience it by himself was very different. Far very different than he knew. He didn’t know where was he in the outer space, but he thought he was far away from Earth.

“Where are we?”

“Interstellar space.” Sixshot answered. “We have abandoned the Earth’s star system a few breems ago. Now it’s 10:32 in Earth’s time.”

“Oh.” replied First Aid, not looking the Phase Sixer. He was too immersed in looking at the stars before him. He felt like he wanted to go outside and fly freely through the stars, to enjoy the grand nothingness around him. He stepped forward a few steps. This was _amazing_.

“I did take a few photos about the ringed planet we passed earlier.” Sixshot said, looking at him.

“Saturn?”

“Ah, that. I don’t know its name.”

First Aid kept on enjoying the stars move slowly in the window. He felt like now was the time he truly appreciated the universe and the force that created it. He felt like all of his worries were gone, left behind on Earth. Spirals of nearby galaxies were glinting like a rotating jewel, some bright, some dim. Colourful spectrum of light emanating from the stars shone through his visors. There was more colour can be seen from here than from Earth, even in bright sunlight! There were more elements to the universe than those that existed on Earth, he thought. It was just the humans didn’t have the means of knowing their existence, let alone understand them.

Behind him, Sixshot chuckled slightly, ignoring a sudden flow of warmth and happiness in his spark.

“First Aid,” he spoke softly, taking hold of the medic’s hand. “Here, lay on me.”

First Aid suddenly tensed. All the pleasant images from his processors fled his mind when he heard those words. “…lay on you?”

“Here. There was no other seat.” The ambulance could hear the tenseness in Sixshot voice, and he was trying to make his voice even. “Surely you’ve done it before.”

“I-I…” he looked back, unable to read the expression behind that masque. The red optiques set on him were always hard to read. Why did he suddenly felt afraid and embarrassed? His internal temperature also rose slightly. Of course he had done it before. It was a casual thing to do. “I didn’t—… I’m fine?”

“Just lay on me.” Sixshot slumped a bit on the seat, allowing access to First Aid to climb up and lay on him. “Otherwise I wouldn’t ask.”

First Aid hesitated, but slowly walked closer to Sixshot. The Phase Sixer opened his masque and put it on the dash, baring his face to the other mech. First Aid surprised for a bit, but then allowed himself be handled by the bigger mech to his chest. He felt the warmth and buzz of the much stronger engine on his back, making him feel tiny and insignificant compared to the Phase Sixer. Somehow, he felt safe. This was just like laying on Hot Spot, back home. His commander always knew how to make him feel better when he was upset… but thinking about his gestalt made him felt uneasy. Better to avoid thinking about them for now.

He felt comfortable, and he was afraid of it.

The engine beneath him rumbled. “Comfortable?”

“…yes? Thank you.” He replied, keeping his hands to himself.

“Don’t thank me.”

They laid like that for a few moments, enjoying each other’s warmth and the stars that surrounded them. First Aid chuckled a bit when he thought this was like a honeymoon, the two of them travelling the space, together, only the two of them.

Sixshot realised his chuckle. “What is it?”

“Nothing, just…” the medic didn’t dare look up, because he knew he’d felt funny if the saw that face up close. “Nothing.”

The six changer beneath him rumbled. “Possum te tango?”

He could practically hear Sixshot smiling under his surprised gasp. Decepticons were always full of surprises, he thought.

“Potes loquere Primal Vernacular?”

“Posso ego.” Sixshot chuckled a bit. “Potes tu?”

The medic was fascinated. He thought only Ratchet could speak it. “Modicum. Ratchet me docuit.”

“I thought you wouldn’t understand. Rarely do I have the opportunity to speak it to someone.” Sixshot was amused, First Aid knew it.

“I’m still learning. Most of the medical texts we have in the Ark are written in Primal Vernacular.”

“In quo casu, debes discere plus ad posse capere. But the question stands, can I touch you?”

Polite mech, First Aid thought. He could just touch and grope him all the way he wanted, but he chose to ask him first. “Yes.”

Sixshot’s hands moved to his chest, hugging him, trapping him in his mercy. He couldn’t believe himself that he allowed a Decepticon to do this kind of thing to him. But he felt safer, he felt like someone was protecting him from the outside world, not trapping and abusing him. Sixshot would ask him first before he did anything to him. He didn’t abuse his power, his superiority.

And First Aid hated the fact that he cared about this Decepticon.

“Better?”

“Yes.” First Aid snuggled comfortably under the mech’s hold. “You’re warm.”

Sixshot chuckled. “You’ve never sleep on my wolf mode. You should try it some time.”

That was an… invitation? First Aid mind about his personal boundaries, but Sixshot seemed not to mind about it, at least toward him. Back in the Nemesis, Sixshot seemed fond of hugging him when the Phase Sixer was sleeping. Of course he didn’t mind, just wary and uncomfortable, but he was getting used to it. He did doubt that Sixshot would do that when he was awake, though. However, he did wonder how was Sixshot’s other modes like. He wondered, would he have a wolf as a pet? He chuckled slightly. The air between them was a lot less tense than the previous.

“Okay. I’m curious about your other modes, too.”

“You’ll see it.” Sixshot pull a lever to make the ship turn left a bit, avoiding an off-system asteroid, then put it back on course. “The planet we’re going to is crawled my many dangerous creatures.”

“Speaking of planet, where are we going to? Do you have to… eradicate them?”

Sixshot grimaced a bit; surely the ambulance knew about his job. “No.”

He paused a bit.

“We’re going to Vagitanus IX. It’s an organic planet, a lot less advanced than Earth. Megatron said it has resources, so I was sent to investigate it, and because the planet has gigantic dangerous creatures that Megatron is sure I could stand through.”

“You… uh… well—… where does it located?”

“A few stellar-drives from Earth. We’d arrive there in a few hundred years at this speed, so I’ll transwarp after we reached Monacus to fix our dark-matter drive.”

“Oh.” The medic opened his masque. “Why is it broken?”

“Mixmaster foolishly tinkered with it, now we have a dysfunctional dark-matter drive, thanks to him.”

“How far is Monacus?”

“Not too far, we’ll reach it in a few days.”

This was going to be an eventful drive.

* * *

Blades was fuming in the medbay. He walked the and forth, ignoring the confused look of Streetwise. Sixshot said _they_ wasn’t going to come?! He had suspicion about what did he do to their medic. If he really did it to First Aid…

“Come on, Blades. At least he told us where do they go.” Streetwise said, trying to calm Blades down.

“That’s _where_ do they go that makes me afraid. Who know what will that Decepticon do to him? I shouldn’t have trusted him! We shouldn’t have fraternised with him! He’s a Decepticon, Streetwise. A Phase Sixer even!” He faced the other mech. “He kills people for a living! Can you count how much people he killed? And can you _believe_ that we’re trusting him?! He could take Aid anywhere! He’ll force him to watch him doing his job! He’ll torture him like that! He’ll…”

“Calm down, Blades.” Hot Spot entered the medbay, tense, but trying to calm himself. “Vagitanus IX is an organic planet. Its inhabitants are primitive animals, not an advanced one like Earth.”

“So what?! What’s the difference?!” Blades’ rotors spun slightly.

“I believed him because he believed me.” He sat on the berth, next to Streetwise. “Though I doubt why I do, you should try.”

“Trying to believe him. Tsch.” He sneered. “Please.”

“You should be thankful that Optimus Prime is the only one who know our… fraternisation with him. I’m sure the other Autobots wouldn’t take it well.”

“So do I! And why do I? Because the humans have seen him? A ‘spy’ wouldn’t roaming around the city! The humans would’ve reported him to Prowl! And what was it about Optimus Prime? Don’t you remember who helped us preparing for Christmas?”

“But they haven’t, have they?” Streetwise patted him on the shoulder. “Otherwise, Prowl would’ve asked us. But he hasn’t.”

“Optimus chose Grapple, Hoist, and Grimlock for a reason. They don’t know who Sixshot is, and they won’t tell the others about him. You’ve seen Sixshot and Grimlock, right? They get along pretty well, Grimlock wouldn’t tell about him too.”

“And they will know! They’ll know and they’ll curse us for fraternising with him, _them_! The humans wouldn’t be fooled forever, sooner or later, they’ll know who is he!”

“We don’t know him, Blades.” Hot Spot stood, towering over them. “We don’t know him from the War before Earth. All we know is only that he’s a Phase Sixer, killing is his job, that’s all. But have you ever heard he killed an Autobot?” he paused. “As far as I know, he never gets to kill one of us. He, and Black Shadow, are stationed to sweep a planet clean to cyberform, not to kill and hunt Autobot.”

“What difference does it make?” Blades struggled out of their gaze. “He’s still a killer! What do we know about him? What do _you_ know about him?”

“I know him as Aid’s patient.” Hot Spot kept on staring at him. “I know him as our friend.”

“Friend? HA!” he laughed dryly. “I will _not_ have a friend like that!”

Hot Spot patted Blades, not wanting the helicopter to keep being upset. And to avoid his rotors from spinning itself without him knowing. “We’ll talk about this later. It’s Christmas, and we have other things to do. Let’s go downstairs.”

“Ha. Yeah, humans, party, decoration.” He refused, but followed them nonetheless. “Whatever. Frag you.”

Streetwise silently hoped that Blades could hold himself when they were downstairs.


	16. Lima Belas

No one was there to help.

Sixshot ran as fast as he could, ignoring the rumble of building around him. No one cared about what was happening on the outside; they had their lives to attend to. Unlike him.

He ran through the maze of buildings, in the lower area of Kaon, under the heavy smoke of haze, being chased by some street gangsters. The lamps on the road were the only source of light in the nearly deserted roads of lower Kaon, those were even had become dim. What did he do? Heck, he didn’t know what had he done wrong! But they didn’t accept ‘sorry’ and ‘no’ as a reply. Their problem wasn’t his, and his wasn’t theirs.

_I knew it, I should’ve never left Helex._

He ignored his surroundings. The sound of footsteps behind him grew louder, followed by some grunts and promises of what they would do to him. He ignored them, focusing only on what was in front of him, the alleyway, the road, some things he could use to hide!

No room to hide, he kept running.

Suddenly he stopped dead on track. Someone was holding his neck, making him unable to move. He couldn’t move his feet, the hold on his neck was too tight until it hurt. He clawed the hand that held his neck in a desperate attempt to loosen the hold. But of course, his holder didn’t care.

He fidgeted as his holder, a black and dark grey tank frame, whispered to him, and more people came into the scene.

“Trespassers won’t be allowed. Thou shaltn’t pass here if thou dostn’t want thyself to be…” the shuttle chuckled. “well, let’s just say the things thou dostn’t want.”

Sixshot cringed in pain as the hold on his neck became even tighter.

Then everything went black, and he opened his optiques…

…to find himself in a small room with a black ceiling. He jolted awake, sitting and gasping to cool his overheated frame. His fans roared, his optiques bright red, his fingers twitched. He gripped his neck, nothing was there, and he allowed himself to sigh, relieved. It was just one of his nightmares.

He was safe, he would go on.

Beside him, the ambulance didn’t even fidget when he jolted awake. The ambulance still recharging peacefully, his back facing him, unaware of the world. Sixshot sighed again and laid back down.

He hugged First Aid, taking as much comfort as he could, rather than giving them to the ambulance. First Aid didn’t know, but the ambulance was his only source of comfort these days. And he hoped that he didn’t mind. He knew, he had grown attached to the Autobot medic, but he didn’t think that it was a bad thing.

He hoped that he could also offer more comfort to the ambulance, knowing that he needed it more than him. Forcibly separated from his family and brothers wasn’t a pleasant thing in his mind, or anyone’s. The ambulance was strong, but unlike the strength he possessed, this one was more powerful. It was the strength to continue forging his way on his own. To hold to his belief. To keep standing when no one was there.

Movement caught his attention as the ambulance shifted in his hold, but he showed no sign of waking up. Sixshot loosened his hold to allow him to move. The ambulance moved to lay on his other side, facing Sixshot. He stared at his turned off visor; they were so close until he could see the turned off optiques beneath. The ambulance retracted his masque, as he always did these days. He supposed that First Aid had already got comfortable with him being around.

He knew, the ambulance could have left him anytime he wanted, even when they visited the Protectobot base. Had the ambulance hide and left him when they were on the Protectobot base, he wouldn’t have looked for him; instead, he would have left him be. The ambulance had saved his life; it was his turn to save his.

He rubbed First Aid’s cheek; his lips curved into a small, but honest, smile. Showing him that he was thankful to have him here. Telling him that he was sorry for everything.

He nervously hugged the ambulance tighter.

* * *

First Aid busied himself seeing the stars around him. There were so much small bright dots there! He could spend breems just looking at them! Occasionally there were some galaxies appeared in the distance, inviting him to come there and fly among the stars there. He chuckled; though it sounded appealing, he didn’t actually want to fly among the stars. Too far, too much space between them.

The control panel had been set to automatic so that he didn’t need to tinker with it. Though his curiosity urged him to, he didn’t want to break the only vessel that was able to bring him home.

Sixshot was still sleeping; the ambulance noticed the temperature of the Phase Sixer’s frame was nearly dangerously hot when he woke up in, ehrm, his arms. He let the arm go and instead went to the main room.

He went back to the room he and Sixshot resided. Sixshot brought also with him some of his datapads from the Nemesis. Some of it First Aid had read, but mostly hadn’t. He didn’t have the time, or Sixshot had been keeping most of it with himself (because a number of datapads he had read in Sixshot’s room were only a few; only those on the desk, he hadn’t read those on the shelf). Either way, he was glad to have those. And reading under the light of distant stars sounded appealing to him.

He took a few pads and went back to the bridge.

There was only one chair there. Not a coincidence, because this was a shuttle for one bot. Even he was sure that Skyfire was bigger than this—no, no thinking of the Autobots, it’d only make him hurt more… but he’d buy them each a souvenir from Monacus—, but he was quite glad of the small size, it meant no too much empty space.

He didn’t exactly know their location in space. Sixshot had told him before that they had transwarped into a quite far location, but he didn’t know how far it was. No matter, it wouldn’t take too long to reach Monacus.

Sitting on the only chair on the control panel, he began reading one of the pads. With only one chair, he had to sit on Sixshot when they had to sit. Not a bad thing for him; he too often to sit and lay on Hot Spot or Blades when he felt like he wanted to, and they never refused. They were amused, even, they enjoyed it. And he could feel the same thing with Sixshot; the Phase Sixer seemed to enjoy it when he was laying on him.

And he also enjoyed it.

The book he read contained the history of Cybertronian astronomy. He didn’t know that the first civilisations of Cybertron had many constellations! Too bad he couldn’t see them from here. The Earth also had constellations, and he liked to see them from the top of their base, but he wondered how constellations appeared from the unseen sky of Cybertron.

Many times did he wonder when he could see his home world.

‘We’ll go there.’ Many times he told him. ‘We only need to wait. The war will end.’

“What are you reading?” a voice from behind him spoke.

First Aid looked over his shoulder. Sixshot was there, walking towards him with two cubes of energon. “Uh, it’s about the astronomy of ancient Cybertron.”

“Good selection,” Sixshot replied. “I was going to tell you about it.”

“Tell… me?”

“You seem interested in history, so I think you would like this too.” Sixshot chuckled, giving him one of the cubes.

“Uh, thank you…” First Aid replied sheepishly, looking away. “You want to sit?”

The Phase Sixer drank his cube until it was half empty. “No, I’m going to have a bath. Would you care to join me?”

First Aid didn’t respond. He felt himself getting hotter; he drank his cube forcibly to hide his embarrassment.

“Or do I have to carry you?” Sixshot continued.

The ambulance dared to look up. Sixshot’s expression was unreadable with his masque on, but he could pick up the playful tone in his voice. Slagging pit, the offer was too tempting for him to deny.

“N-no! I… I would like that. H-having a bath I mean.”

Standing up and putting the datapad aside, First Aid followed the Phase Sixer to the washrack. The washrack was only in the back of the shuttle, near the entrance to the engine room.

Upon entering the washrack, he saw Sixshot had already submerged until his neck in a rather large tub. Did he have to lay on him again? The other’s masque was off, the corners of his lips tugging upwards a bit, his pose relaxed, inviting… hot.

Slag it! Blades was so going to whack his head. Hot Spot would probably just look at him and chuckle.

This position made him so vulnerable, so inviting, so arousing. Laying before him in a tub of warm oil in an interstellar shuttle, First Aid couldn’t think of a better situation. This really was a date, the ambulance thought sheepishly. His face turned red and his visor brightened a bit as he stared into the other mech laying. Then, that bastard grinned.

“Come here. Just lay on me.”

The ambulance moved forward, realising that he had been frozen on the spot. He carefully entered the bathtub and settled himself on Sixshot’s chest… which was still having that expression on his faceplate.

First Aid opened his masque and breathed for cool air as he felt heat on his frame. The heat from the oil wasn’t the most important, but it was from the Phase Sixer’s frame. He could feel the strong engine rumble beneath him as it made the water rippled. He knew, he could kill him right here right now; he always had the power. But he never used it, never had he used even the tiniest portion of his power to him, not even his authority.

He never used that power to harm him.

“Touch you?” the Phase Sixer asked; he nodded.

He knew so well that those arms were capable of bringing death and destruction to almost everything it touched, but they never harmed him, always touching him with utmost care. He knew blood and energon often covered the white surface of those. And now those hands were travelling his abdomen, trapping him. But one hand moved lower...

First Aid whimpered.

Sixshot chuckled.

Okay, so he was so going to be fragged up. Literally.

“Needy already?” he said, close to his audial, in that baritone voice of his…

First Aid gasped.

“Let’s just enjoy this moment.” Then the hand moved away from his interfacing panel’s cover to wash away his frame. “I wonder… why do you never take off your visor?”

“V-visor?” squeaked the ambulance.

“Yes.” Sixshot washed some oil to his chest. “You wear it all the time.”

First Aid’s hands were holding Sixshot’s sides as he whimpered lowly. “I-I never felt the n-necessity to t-take it off.”

“Hm? I think it is rather… odd for someone to keep using their visor.”

The ambulance didn’t realise how tense he was until the Phase Sixer gripped his upper part of his shoulder and spoke, “You’re so tense. Just relax.”

He whimpered again as his captor softly rubbed his hands. His internal temperature increased alarmingly high, both from the oil and the ministrations Sixshot applied upon him. He was glad, though, he couldn’t see the Phase Sixer’s face or his own. He wouldn’t want the other to see his face. Stop, he thought, you’re going to make me tenser.

Eventually, First Aid relaxed under Sixshot’s touch. Sixshot’s engine rippled the oil around them, purring softly and vibrating his frame in a good way. The warm oil seeped to his seams like numerous of soft caresses. Like someone was massaging his frame, but, someone actually was.

Sixshot was massaging him, applying soft touches and pressures to his plating. First Aid closed his optiques in enjoying those touches to his frame. His large white hands gripped his upper shoulders, shoulder, and arms, then moved lower to his chest. It didn’t arouse him, fortunately, only that it made him stop trembling—he didn’t even know he was trembling—and melt under his touches. The medic sighed, so contrast to a few moments ago.

The larger mech chuckled. Seeing the medic relaxed before him made him feel relaxed… and happy.

That is, until a beeping sound came from the control panel.

“U-uh, what is it?” First Aid spoke, opening his optiques.

Sixshot looked to the door, and hummed quietly. “Just the control panel. Check it?”

The medic cursed himself for saying this, “…can you stay for a few more minutes?” He looked up, meeting the red gaze of the Phase Sixer.

Sixshot looked down, staring into the equally bright blue visor. He then chuckled again. “If you insist.”


	17. Enam Belas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! Guys look I made my first full porn scene ~~I have just only finished my week of National Exam and I wrote this I'm so ashamed~~

That beeping sound from the control panel turned out to be from the starmap, telling them that their destination is near. Sixshot manoeuvred the shuttle into the nearest landing port to get them safely landed. First Aid looked around from the windows; Monacus was a lot like Earth in night-time from photos he had seen. Lights from the city illuminated the view, and because Monacus didn’t possess any atmosphere, they weren’t bent or twinkling as First Aid thought they would.

He kept staying behind Sixshot, who appeared like a fortress compared to him, when they descended from the shuttle. Sixshot talked something with the gatekeeper, maybe about him to repair the dark-matter drive. The gatekeeper didn’t appear to welcome them, it was afraid, even. Maybe Sixshot had already a reputation here. Or maybe it was the Decepticon symbol on his chest.

Either way, he was glad he wasn’t alone in a place like this.

“Monacus is known as a gambling place,” Sixshot said when they were outside the (only?) spaceport. “All lifeforms are welcome here... except maybe Cybertronians.”

“Why?”

“Maybe because someone wreaked havoc here a long time ago. Since then some bars and hotels have been wary about having Cybertronians in their area. But now, we’re more welcomed here.”

“I remember Optimus Prime, Smokescreen, and a few others went here for gambling.”

They passed a group of weird-looking organics on the street. Sixshot watched them; they appeared to be talking about them. Sixshot set his weapon in case of emergency. The streets were rather... quiet.

“Optimus Prime gambles?”

“No, not exactly.” First Aid didn’t appear to be recognising them, which is good to the Phase Sixer. “He was captured, and used as a bet.”

“Hm.” Sixshot saw the organics walked away, but who knew what they could be planning? “We better hurry and find a place to rest.”

“Huh?” the medic looked around, became wary.

“It’s not good to wander in this area when it’s quiet like this.”

They turned left at an intersection, avoiding the place where the organics went.

“You come here often?” First Aid asked, trying to decrease the tenseness.

“No. I come here when I have to.” Sixshot looked around; no one was within sight. No room was available, either the hotels were closed or full. He kept looking for somewhere they can rest. First Aid clung to his arm, and he flinched, but let the ambulance clinging.

The medic watched their surroundings. The place was rather dark; lamps were mostly turned off. They’re just outside the spaceport, right? Things should’ve been more lively. Where were people?

“Maybe the people are watching a match on one of the fighting pits,” Sixshot spoke, seemingly understood what the medic was thinking. His tone, too, was wary.

“O-okay...—where are we going to?”

“A hotel.”

As if Primus heard him, they saw a hotel just across the street. It was bright, though quiet. And it has empty rooms for them. They approached the hotel, still wary of their surroundings. Some shadow in the building across them moved, followed by some sort of laugh, and First Aid clung tighter to the Phase Sixer.

After checking in and took the key, they finally reached a room where they could rest. Although the receptionist wasn’t particularly happy to saw them entering, after Sixshot gave it a good amount of required shanix, it allowed them to stay. First Aid sat on the bed, calming himself whilst Sixshot turned to watch the window.

A soft shreek echoed in the room. First Aid followed his gaze to the Phase Sixer. “I think we are fine now.”

“We don’t know what are those that are lurking in the shadows.” Sixshot turned. “It could be dangerous for you.”

“For... me?” First Aid busied himself with stacking some of the datapads he brought with him on the bedside table, not looking to Sixshot.

“Uh...” Sixshot looked away. “I just do not want to see you get hurt.”

“Well... uh, why?”

“Because...” I care for you? Because my spark spun frantically every time I see you in danger?

Oh, he remembered his spark. It no longer pulsed faster than usual when he was near the medic. In fact, it pulsed... slowly, as if it was in his home, in safety. As if... it found another one.

Huh? Weird.

What the frag was it that he was feeling anyway?

“So, uh, how long will it take until our ship is ready?” the medic asked, changing the topic.

“Not so long.” replied the other. “The gatekeeper said it’d take 2 or 3 jours, depending on the engineers”

“Anyway, it’s getting dark on Earth. I think it’s better for us to rest.”

Sixshot just nodded. He opened his masque and laid himself beside the medic.

They had only slept, like, 2 breems? First Aid woke up into a bright room beside Sixshot. The Phase Sixer was asleep, but woke up when he moved on the bed. Maybe this was one of those restless night for them. First Aid clung to Sixshot, seeking warmth from the larger frame, whilst the owner had his optiques dimmed, looking at him, following his every movement.

He snuggled to the larger mech’s hold, to that large chest of his. He listened to his sparkbeat, slow and steady, whilst the larger mech wrapped an arm around him. But still he couldn’t bring himself to sleep.

And then, something warm began to seep through himself.

He jolted awake when he felt himself became warmer; some of it originated from his interfacing panel. His spike pressurised behind its cover.

Sixshot watched him venting for air, whilst took hold of the medic’s upper shoulder, concerned.

No, First Aid, you’re not supposed to feel like this. He glanced over his shoulder, to those red optiques that grew brighter each passing clicks, questioning him.

He felt his spark spun rapidly in his casing, which is quite unsurprising given that it had been acting like that since he was close to the Phase Sixer. But the growing heat from between his legs, and the uncomfortable warmth of his plating made him think otherwise.

He ran a test and thought of a few possibilities. But most of them were irrelevant to the heat between his legs. Though some of them would make sense, there was only one clear explanation to this.

“S-Sixshot, I... I—I think I’m beginning to enter heat.”

One shouldn’t know when he was entering heat cycle. It should happen naturally and unbeknown to anyone, only in a few days after it activated could someone know if one was in heat. But he was a medic, he knew his frame’s need. He knew the symptoms of an upcoming heat cycle. And even if this wasn’t it, he was in need of a good session. A good, long session with a very attractive mech just behind him...

No! Frag it, Aid, have control of yourself!

Sixshot’s optiques brightened. He was fully online after hearing that, and that red gaze made the medic felt more uncomfortable.

“You...? Heat...?” Sixshot groaned, sitting up. “You are in heat?”

First Aid looked away. “I-I think. It was still new, j-just beginning tonight.”

He checked his frame’s condition a few days before and found none had significantly changed. It had just begun tonight.

“I-I’m sorry, I-I just take a-a cube... I—I’ll be back la—”

“No.” Sixshot took hold of his hand. “We can think a way to relieve you.”

“B-but there’s only one way!”

Without warning, the Phase Sixer took his shoulder and slammed him against the bed, looming over him and straddling him. “Precisely.”

“N-no! Sixshot, stop IT—”

The medic squeaked when Sixshot nuzzled against his neck, securing his hands over his head. The Phase Sixer moved to his face and kissed him slowly. First Aid, not knowing what to do, let the larger mech do whatever pleased him. It’d please him as well, right? But he found himself slowly replied the kiss, their glossae intertwined within his oral cavity. He found the red gaze over his visor… inviting.

And then that bastard pulled away, grinning.

“Didn’t take you as a good kisser.”

“S-Sixshot!”

He chuckled, in that baritone voice of his that sent shivers down to his spine.

The Phase Sixer let go of his hand, grinding their interfacing panel. The friction made First Aid gasp in pleasure, whilst his white hands explored the red and white frame beneath him, and once again found their way to his face.

“You are beautiful,” Sixshot said, for once, smiling softly, taking hold of his faceplate. “You are mine, and I’m not going to break you.”

First Aid blushed, then looked away in embarrassment when his covers unexpectedly opened by their own. Sixshot looked down, then chuckled.

“Just take it slow.”

Sixshot moved lower, trailing kisses down to the medic’s chest and abdomen, whilst taking hold of his spike. First Aid whimpered softly, his hands gripping the sheets on his sides. His frame’s temperature skyrocketed to an alarming level. This—this was just a usual act of self-relieve, right? Right? With the enemy? The enemy that possessed the power to kill him in a matter of clicks?

Hands holding the helm, First Aid moaned as Sixshot took his spike into his mouth. It was small to the Phase Sixer, so he wouldn’t have that much problem. But still, it made him felt amazing in such heat and pressure… Sixshot licked the spike inside his mouth, enjoying it. First Aid clung hands on his helm for dear life as he felt his first overload incoming. The larger mech took no time in chasing the overload, his own spike was painfully hard behind his cover. The medic gripped his helm hard when Sixshot inserted two digits to his leaking valve.

He overloaded; his spike spurted transfluid, Sixshot drank it all. First Aid moaned and shuddered, taking his helm and burying his spike onto the Phase Sixer’s mouth. His valve clenched on the digits, and more lubricants leaked. First Aid gasped, venting for fresh air, his fans working on their highest setting to cool his overheated frame.

When the overload subsided, the digits were still inside his valve, all that the medic could see was Sixshot’s face looming over him, smiling.

“Your first?”

“N-no, I-I…” the medic looked away. “Sometimes I do this with my tEAM—”

First Aid squeaked when Sixshot scissored his valve, his hands gripping the sheets.

“Apologies; I should’ve warned you. Does it hurt?”

“N-no… just, g-go on.”

Another set of fans kicked on, and the medic knew that it was Sixshot’s. The Phase Sixer kissed him softly, this time adding another digit to his valve. The medic bit his glossa a bit at the intrusion, but let happen and replied the kiss, more feverishly.

Sixshot groaned at the kiss, making vibration to the medic’s spine. It fuelled the need within him. Their glossae battled, tugging at one another, and the medic followed Sixshot’s to his mouth, all the while Sixshot made sure that the medic wouldn’t get hurt when he began with his spike. His other hand took hold of the medic’s jaw, caressing it.

After what felt like ages, Sixshot pulled away, and bent down, First Aid’s gaze following him.

The medic moaned loudly when he felt the Phase Sixer’s glossa licked the outer folds of his valve. His free hand caressed the medic’s abdomen, whilst another continued its way at making the medic was open enough so that he wouldn’t get hurt. Sixshot pushed his glossa inside, firing the internal nodes afire. The medic panted and moaned, his legs thrashed aside the Phase Sixer. Sixshot licked and drank the copious amount of lubricant, and tasted just how sweet the medic was.

Feeling that the medic was relaxed enough, Sixshot pulled away. He stood up on his knees, towering over him, with his spike on display for the medic. First Aid blushed, looking away. He was going to be fragged by that? Sixshot was too perfect for him, inside and outside.

The Phase Sixer loomed over him to his face. “Like what you see?”

First Aid looked away from the spike, unable to look at Sixshot. “Y-you… have a nice spike.”

Sixshot just chuckled and lined his spike with the medic’s valve. “Just relax. Tell me when it hurts. I’m large and I’m sure it could be painful.”

First Aid nodded, and Sixshot slowly drove his spike inside. The medic whimpered beneath him, gripping his sides in a death grip. Sixshot groaned, feeling his spike being pressed by the medic’s valve. He took it slowly, kissing the medic to ease the discomfort within his valve. He took the medic and pressed him into his chest, effectively trapping him. It took some time, but he managed to fully enter the medic’s valve.

He groaned, feeling his spike enveloped in such heat and tightness. The medic whimpered in his neck cabling, trying to ease the pain in his valve. Sixshot was big, and he felt his valve was stuffed full.

“I’m going to move now.”

Sixshot began slowly, he thrusted in and out whilst taking his time nuzzling First Aid’s neck. He felt the ambulance tensed beneath him, moaning. In pain or pleasure, he didn’t know. First Aid’s grip on his sides loosened, and the medic moaned.

Taking that as a cue to move faster, Sixshot drove his spike more forcefully this time, earning a cry from the medic, all nodes in his valve sang at the intrusion. The Phase Sixer release his hold on the ambulance, laying him on the berth, his hand steadying himself. First Aid gasped when Sixshot licked his audial and groaned, making wonderful vibration onto the medic. His gasps and moans, every sound that escaped his vocaliser only encouraged the larger mech. His visor was bright, almost white.

“A-aah!” First Aid arched his back, gripping the other’s white wings. “S-Sixshot!”

“Aid…” the Phase Sixer growled low and feral, then kissed him passionately. That low, shuddering growl made the medic tensed, his spark contracting in its casing, filling his fuel lines with charges. In a few thrusts, First Aid overloaded, his valve clenched and a good amount of lubricant rushed from his valve. His vision went white, his mouth chanted the Phase Sixer’s name as he heard the other groaned deep, taking the chant away. Maybe it was the tightness of his valve that also pushed Sixshot over the edge; he felt transfluid erupted from the other’s spike within his valve.

No, he thought between the hazy pleasure, this won’t spark him.

Sixshot pulled away and groaned. First Aid felt like he was stuffed full, sated. Like most of the charges within his frame was taken away. He was exhausted, and he didn’t want to move a centimetre away. The Phase Sixer then, surprisingly, nuzzled the medic’s neck, not pulling out from his valve. The medic had no desire to lose hold of that spike anyway.

“Did I hurt you?”

First Aid whined when Sixshot tried to pull out. “N-no. I’m fine” he draped a servo over his face. “We’re a mess.”

Chuckling, the larger mech hugged him. “Let’s just sleep.”

“Y-yeah.”

* * *

First Aid woke up in the next few breems, feeling sated and pleasant. He didn’t remember what happened last night, but his processors buzzed in a good way. He didn’t remember the last time he defragged his drive so thoroughly before. It was a good, uh, morning, wasn’t it? He stretched under a heavy blanket on top of him, listening to its soft vibration. His frame felt good with the vibration, making his system buzzed with small charges and—wait, what?

Blankets didn’t vibrate.

He looked down, and surprised to know that it was Sixshot above him, purring. The Phase Sixer was still sleeping, hugging him comfortably. His helm was nested in the medic’s neck cables, and the medic looked to the ceiling.

What in the name of Primus had they done last night?

First Aid wiggled, trying to get the heavy frame off him. It was a miracle that his frame wasn’t dented or hurt after being crushed under such heavy weight. He avoided to look into the other’s optiques; this was going to be an awkward jour.

Either way, his frame felt good. The charges were gone for now, and he hated to think that this… this would be a usual thing. A-at least he didn’t regret anything, right? Right? He had done this plentiful times before, but none of them was done with a Decepticon. This was just a quick stress relief and helping another through their heat cycle. Hot Spot liked it when the medic led, Blades liked it when he was in charge. Streetwise and Groove would always help him if he needed them.

Sixshot rolled over to lay on his back, still sleeping; with a sigh, the ambulance sat on the bed, ignoring some streaks of white on Sixshot’s white thighs.

He buried his face in his hands and closed his panel. It seemed Sixshot had pulled out when he was asleep, but he had yet to close his own panel. He looked to his thighs, they were smeared by his own drying lubricants. Some were also Sixshot’s transfluid, he was sure of it. He then looked to the sheets. There was a giant pool of drying fluids in which they had slept on. Why didn’t he remember to clean up before he slept?

Although, he couldn’t deny that his frame felt… awfully good.

He stood up, feeling his valve pleasantly sore. It wasn’t that hard to walk, just a pleasantly stinging ache in his valve, making him whimper when he took the first step, then he rushed to the washrack.

Warm water washed away the drying fluids in his thighs, making him feel cleaner. He whimpered a bit when his hand slid over his valve lips, trying to clean the fluids there and inside. When he looked down, he saw some streaks of green on his red chest and black on his white thighs, and he embarrassedly cleaned them. After making sure that he was clean of any fluid and swapped paints, he walked out of the washrack.

After cleaning up, he looked around. The room they were in wasn’t just a single room; there were separate sections for washrack and kitchen. He walked to the kitchen and took a cube that Sixshot put there last night.

He sat on the corner of the bed and turned on the TV, waiting for the Phase Sixer to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that part when sixshot awakes when first aid moved in the bed, he was thinking like 'imma frag him until he can't walk...look at those thighs...look at that strong frame...i mean wow...' and then the medic said that he was in heat and sixshot was like 'i love u primus for hearing my thoughts'


	18. Tujuh Belas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm baack  
> (apologies for the delay and short chapter)

Sixshot woke up to a world of nothingness.

Well, not exactly nothingness, because his systems felt so good until he thought he couldn’t feel anything to his frame.

After a few moments, he groaned, and looked for someone by his hands. Someone he had grown fond of.

There wasn’t anyone in his side.

Red optiques snapped online and looked to his side, and he saw no one. No one was beside him, nor in front of the TV, nor in the visible section of the kitchen. Even the washracks was void of any sounds.

Where was the ambulance?

Sitting up, Sixshot sighed and let his head stabilise, then stood up, only to stop when he felt something rather sticky in his hand.

Oh. Transfluid.

Was First Aid upset? Did he run away?

Sixshot groaned, and walked to the washracks.

The washracks had been used recently, he thought, seeing that the floor and the towel behind the door were still wet. Maybe the ambulance hadn’t gone far.

Surely the ambulance hadn’t gone far.

After that which he thought was a night for them, and in the morning he’d be honest with him and have a talk, the ambulance ran away. Sixshot felt sick at the thought. Did First Aid think that he was just taking advantage of the medic’s condition? Did First Aid thought that finally he could have him in a way?

It wasn’t his first time, but it was his first time with an Autobot. He was far superior to the Autobot, for frag’s sake, why did he feel these kinds of feeling for him? Why didn’t it take the other way around?

The water cleaned away his shame and self-hatred. He was a Decepticon; he’d be responsible for anything he had done. He cleaned his frame from transfluid and swapped paints; it surely happened for they ground their frame roughly. Even thinking of that made him look away.

He had done numerous of interfacing before, both consensual and not, some of them even made him imagine and do some self-service before he met his partner for the second time for another round. Some of his berth partners went in the early morning, when he was still asleep. Life was hard back then; he’d do anything to earn some shanix so that he could live another day to see the sun. So why did this one feel so… foreign to him? Why did this one make him worry? Why did this one feel so special? Was it because he interfaced with an Autobot?

Now, he had to locate First Aid. Not because he wanted to say sorry, but because the room felt blank without the colourful frame and personality of the medic, he told himself.

Stepping out the washrack, he noticed that one cube was empty. The medic took one, he was sure. He took another and downed it in one go. Although his frame felt good, he was sure he’d need a cube.

He then opened the door to their room, and looking for any sign of the red and white medic.

Of course, there was no sign of him. The hallway was empty, not even the slightest of sound was audible.

He took the stairs and looked his surroundings, the medic wasn’t even at the entrance. The receptionist’s table was empty, maybe the alien was someplace else. But the hall was rather full. Aliens, organic or robotic, walked here and forth; he ignored them and dashed towards the main entrance.

Walking out the building, he still didn’t see the medic on the road.

“First Aid?!”

No one answered. Some aliens walking on the street just looked at him, confused.

Sixshot ignored them and walked left, hoping that the medic was safe.

* * *

His search didn’t appear to be futile. He found the medic standing by some aliens, looking at something on the side of the road. Sixshot walked quietly to the medic, taking the sight before him.

The medic was gorgeous.

Even by his shy, quiet, and caring personality, he didn’t look small. In fact, he was one of the most prominent in that crowd. Not because he was the only robotic being, but mostly because of his colours. And they fit him perfectly. Red and white with grey thighs, crosses in his shoulders; he was meant to save lives. With an otherwise strong build, he appeared strong; maybe he could lift someone of Sixshot’s size if that someone needed help. He smiled involuntarily behind his masque, hoping that the medic didn’t regret what they did last night.

If he himself didn’t regret what did they do last night.

He enjoyed last night, and he hoped that the medic did too.

Stepping to the crowd, he tried not to shout the medic’s name. He tapped his shoulder, indicating him to move out of the crowd. They stood next to each other, not exactly seeing each other’s eyes.

It was First Aid who talked first. “I... I’m sorry about last night.”

The medic was sorry? He shouldn’t be sorry about it! It was him who initiated it, it was him to blame.

“I’m sorry I took advantage of you last night—”

Sixshot looked down and took hold of First Aid’s shoulder. “No, Aid, it is me who should say sorry.” He interrupted him. “I am the who took advantage of you last night.”

The medic looked up, and for a second Sixshot thought he’d slap him. But then the medic chuckled a bit, though he remained unable to read the meaning. “I guess... we both took advantage of each other last night.”

“So, it was consensual?”

“Of course.” First Aid looked away. “I wouldn’t allow you if it wasn’t.”

Sixshot smiled behind his masque, releasing the medic’s shoulder. “No hard feelings?”

“No.” First Aid snapped his masque off. “So, where are we going to today?”

“I don’t exactly have a plan. Why did you run off this morning?”

They walked away from the crowd. “I just think I’d better be outside. Anyway, it looks like you have fully fixed.”

“Fully fixed?”

“From the injury from that prototype weapon.” He looked to the Phase Sixer. “Gosh, it took me this long to report to you your condition.”

“It’s okay.” Sixshot replied. “Now it’s my turn to return the favour.”

“So, uh, you’re not going to kill me?”

“No, I’m not.” He looked down. “I have no intention in doing that.”

* * *

After taking a walk through the most part of the city, they returned to the hotel. Sixshot took another cube, whilst First Aid took the sheets to the laundry, silently cursing why did he forget to wash them. The Phase Sixer smiled; the medic was cute when he became plain.

“This...  heat cycle of yours it will last how long?” he asked, taking the content.

First Aid looked away, hiding a small smile. “A few jours, maybe, knowing that someone has relieved it from the start.”

Sixshot grinned.

“Either way, I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“Talk about?”

“Ah nevermind.” He stood up and walked to the Phase Sixer. “I’ll ask when we have the time.”


	19. Delapan Belas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack... \/ after so much stuff about graduating high school, looking for college, and do some entrance exams, I now have to wait for the results :3  
> Now here's chapter 18.

Their shuttle had been fixed.

First Aid saw Sixshot paying the cost of the repair to the gatekeeper. Meanwhile, he took a look to the shuttle. It was small for a shuttle, but bigger than Skyfire. He didn’t know the exact size of Astrotrain, but he thought that Decepticon’s alt mode was a bit larger than this.

His observation was only a bit, Sixshot urged to get on the ship. They took off rather clumsily; it was quick, and rushed.

The medic stood by the window, looking at the stars outside. They had to take some distance from the nearest star system to engage the dark-matter drive. Sixshot was... uh... tinkering away with the engine? He didn’t remember Sixshot saying anything about what he was doing.

“You like the stars, aren’t you?” the Phase Sixer asked him under the control panel.

“I... Rarely do I have the chance to see them like this.”

Sixshot chuckled, then carried away with his work.

“Sixshot? Why were we leaving Monacus in rush?”

The Phase Sixer closed the control panel’s engine cover, then repacked the repair tool. “Someone said that another Decepticon Phase Sixer was there.”

“Another?” First Aid looked at him.

“There are more Phase Sixer than just me, Tarn, Black Shadow, and Overlord.” Sixshot walked behind him. “But they’re unlikely to ever encounter us, nor we encounter them. They are stationed far from Earth.”

“You could’ve beaten him? I mean, it was like you meeting your friend, right?”

“To me, yes. To you, no.”

The medic looked away. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sixshot sat on the single chair. “Come here. Don’t think about it. I guess that we’d be doing that more often by now?”

First Aid stared at him. “Doing what?”

“Fragging.”

“What?! You think I’m some kind of fragtoy now?”

The Decepticon chuckled. “Sensitive, aren’t we?”

“I take it back, Decepticons _are_ mindless beasts.”

“This beast has caught you unaware.”

“Shut up!” Looking away, First Aid looked for something he could throw at the Phase Sixer, _anything_. But suddenly, he felt warmth on his back. He spun around, ready to hit the Phase Sixer, only to find a giant metal wolf was looking at him. He stared at it— _him_. So this was Sixshot’s wolf mode. The Autobots weren’t kidding, he was _huge_.

And that bastard was smirking; who knew a giant metal wolf could smirk? “I told you this beast has caught you unaware.”

“Shut up.” But his curiosity had taken over. He lifted a finger to touch the head, hesitating. Sixshot just stared at his hand. First Aid couldn’t read the gaze, whether it was calculating, waiting, or even worse, strategizing.

He then withdrew his hands, feeling afraid.

Sixshot, being able to see that, stepped back, frowning. “Why?”

“I...” First Aid looked away.

Sixshot stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged it off and transformed, gesturing the medic to the control panel. He opened his masque and put it on the shelves. “Come on, just let me tell you a story.”

* * *

_Vagitanus IX_

Their shuttle landed on a grassy land of the planet, just a few distance from the night area. Next to it was a forest, but it was a lot bigger than what the medic saw on Earth. First Aid gazed out the window in awe as he saw the thick forest, roofed by large leaves and some animals stared at them. It was wise for them to keep their distance, he thought.

Although the conditions were much like Earth, its lifeforms were, somewhat, alike but different. There were no trees on Earth that could rise this tall, nor did exist a horse with six legs and blue skin. The size of everything were comparable of them; just by looking from inside the shuttle, the medic got an impression that everything was _huge_.

Oh, and Sixshot said that there were many gigantic creatures here. Maybe for today, they were just lucky not to encounter one, although he was curious, if not counting the fear, of seeing them.

“Aid?”

Looking beside him, First Aid felt Sixshot put a hand on his shoulder, as if comforting him. The medic smiled behind his masque. “Is it safe?”

“As long as nothing scares you, it’s safe.” replied the Decepticon.

The shuttle door opened and they stepped outside. From here, the medic thought, he felt like he was just about the size of an average human. The small animals watched them with their curious eyes; though most of the animals appeared like Earthian herbivore, they still had to keep an optique on them.

The atmosphere resembled Earth’s one, but the amount of methane and oxygen were bigger, whereas the nitrogen was smaller.

“Hmm…” Sixshot rumbled beside him.

First Aid looked at him, and then to the thing he was seeing. An animal was stepping closer on them, curious.

 _Heck_ , if that thing was a horse, it was the biggest one he had ever seen!

However, Sixshot was still taller than it was, and he was watching the creature’s movement. First Aid shifted closer to the larger mech, and Sixshot wrapped an arm on his shoulder, demonstrating possessiveness, in case the creature tried to take the medic away. The creature stepped closer, his muzzle sniffing them. It didn’t appear to be interested in taking any of them, just curious.

That didn’t ease Sixshot’s discomfort, though. The Decepticon growled, low but loud; the medic could feel the vibration from his chest. The creature stepped back, then went into the forest.

First Aid, who didn’t even realise he had been clinging to the other mech, scooted away from him, faceplate red from embarrassment behind his masque. “It didn’t look like it was trying to attack us.” He spoke.

“Still, anything could happen.” Sixshot rumbled, looking into the forest. “I suggest that we take some samples from various sides of the planet and analyse them.”

“I thought you’ll be… nevermind.”

Sixshot looked at him, expression blank.

The medic looked away, rephrasing the question. “I thought you’ll be destroying this planet. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” replied Sixshot, pulling him to walk further from the forest to the savannah. “It was hardly your fault. I’m here to check the planet, not to destroy it. Though, personally, I’d liked the latter.”

“Um, yeah. So…”

Sixshot chuckled. “I’m glad to have you here. This is my first mission, if without you, to check a planet by myself. Usually Megatron has Shockwave, or even Starscream to do that.”

The Autobot chuckled nervously.

“Okay, first sample is here. The shuttle’s scaning device couldn’t scan for underground structures.” He kneeled, inspecting the grass. “We’ll get to a cave later.”

“…uh, how do we analyse it?”

“I thought you brought your analysis kit?”

First Aid kneeled next to him. “I didn’t, sorry.”

Sixshot just nodded, “I’ll take the scanner from the shuttle.”

It didn’t take him long to return. He scanned the grass and the dirt beneath them. First Aid was still kneeling, looking to the grass. It was just like Earth version of it, only much larger. Some small animals were creeping on its surface, and he saw a, um, grasshopper (?), leapt away.

The planet’s sun was low on the horizon, making the scene rather dim. He could see Sixshot’s much larger frame towering over him, fiddling the scanner with his fingers, his broad white shoulder casting shadow over his smaller frame. Those strong legs supporting him on the ground, those wings over his chest, and that strong arm holding his chin.

Well, he wouldn’t want to say this out loud, but he was so fragging _hot_ , and handsome too. Those red optiques were fixed on the device’s display, but the medic could see them change their brightness. Lately, he was able to tell the other’s emotion just by looking at the optiques. And now he was thinking, focusing. Everything about him was perfect.

There, just right.

First Aid wondered if he had fallen for the Decepticon Phase Sixer.

* * *

Night had fallen shortly after they analysed the soil. Sixshot predicted that the planet’s night would fall a bit longer than Earth’s, which wasn’t that bad for them. It meant they could adapt just fine.

Closing the shuttle’s viewfinder, Sixshot watched the planet’s darkened forest. There could be a lot of dangerous things on this planet. They knew only a bit of the wildlife. However, he felt that the shuttle would be enough to protect the medic; the alarm would go if something tried to attack the shuttle.

He walked to his shared room, turning off the lamps.

First Aid had fallen asleep in the berth. Sixshot stayed for a bit from the doorframe to look at the medic., taking in the beautiful sight.

There was nothing for him to think about for now. He couldn’t deny it; he felt strangely happy with the medic. He felt happy just by being with him. He felt happy when he looked at the medic, looking that beautiful faceplate and that innocent blue visor. Like there was something in his spark that had been begging to be filled all this time, and now there was First Aid to fill it. And his spark was no longer spinning rapidly or fluctuating; it felt content.

There was also this strange desire for him to protect him, to make sure he was okay. He didn’t want to see the medic suffer. Even just being with him, he found himself feel… different. He wasn’t thinking about death or destruction anymore, though it was still rather good. He felt like he’d want to destroy an entire solar system if that meant First Aid would be happy, if that meant he’d be safe.

These were new things to him, and unlike many times before, he didn’t hold them back. He couldn’t.

Opening his masque, Sixshot didn’t make any attempt to hold the small smile in his face as he joined First Aid on the berth.


	20. Sembilan Belas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I’m sorry for the late update. After being refused in three universities, I was going to go on vacation when my doctor told me I’ve got a dengue fever, so I spent my vacation on a hospital berth. Meanwhile, I’m trying to write on my phone because my laptop’s keyboard just won’t work. So, here’s what I can get from one month on a hospital berth.

“Tell me about the other Phase Sixers?” asked First Aid, walking cautiously beside him.

Sixshot mused a bit, cutting the long vines and heavy roots of numerous plants. Like they had predicted, the forest was heavy and thick. The plants were a lot bigger than those on Earth, First Aid said, and closer to each other. Even Sixshot barely fitted to walk on the path without cutting some branches off.

“There are worse things.” The medic had said.

So far, the animals they encountered were still friendly, which meant that they didn’t attack them, just looking with their curious eyes. One eight-legged monkey-like creature even sniffed Sixshot’s wing curiously, and in turn made the Phase Sixer groan and growl at the creature.

Walking around a huge trunk of a tree, he replied. “Why would you want to know?”

“I’m just curious.”

Well, it wasn’t like he was exposing some top secret information. “As you already knew, there are more Phase Sixers than just me. Three of them who I know well are Black Shadow, Tarn, and Overlord. There are others, yes, but I think you do better not know them.”

In the corner of his optiques, he saw the medic nodded. He took it as a cue to continue.

“Black Shadow is... well, you’ve already met him. Tarn is... a sadistic who fanatically idolises Megatron.” He sighed a bit. “Seriously, he’s an intelligent, hard-working, dedicated soldier who knows his place. However, his unhealthy addiction and liking to Megatron unnerves me. He acts like Megatron is his god or something.”

First Aid gulped. “I heard that he’s the leader of the DJD.”

Sixshot looked at him. “Yes, he is.” then he stared at him, his optiques focused and pinning the medic, making him feeling uncomfortable.

“...Sixshot?”

He didn’t even make a sound that he heard him. “Go.” spoke Sixshot, pushing him forward, not even looking at him back. “I saw something behind you, looking at us.”

The medic tensed. “W-what is it?”

“I don’t think that it’s a same species like we’ve encountered before.” The Decepticon stared at it longer, then moved his gaze up and back to the point. “We better go faster. Walk in front of me.”

First Aid just lowered his gaze and move forward, the tension not leaving his frame. For once, he felt safer having Sixshot’s chest pressed against his back. But the Decepticon gestured him to move. He didn’t reply.

“So, um, about Tarn being the DJD leader...?” First Aid spoke, trying to get the tension off them.

The medic could feel Sixshot looking back and forth as they walked to a wider path. “I suppose you know what the DJD is?”

“I hear about their names often. I don’t know what exactly they do.”

“DJD stands for Decepticon Justice Division. Their job is, to put it simple, to keep Decepticons who defected to stay in line to the Decepticon cause.” He chuckled a bit. “I can’t believe I’m telling this to an Autobot. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about them.”

“My friends back home chose not to talk about them sometimes. When I ask, they’d just tell me that I’m better off now knowing about them.”

“I suppose they are right. You’re still too young to know, let alone understand.”

“Just tell me. Uh, so they rehabilitate them?”

“No.” Sixshot said, a bit amused. “They kill them, torture them mercilessly.”

He could see the medic tensed in front of him.

“I can’t do anything about it; it’s Megatron’s order. And Tarn is his fanboy. At least I can stay away from their, could I say, dirty job.” He sighed. “Honestly, I’m not keen on torturing, raping, abusing, those kind of things. I feel better just to kill and get on with it.”

The tension in First Aid’s frame didn’t leave. “Uh, yeah, um, so…”

Sixshot sighed. “Overlord is a jerk.” he spoke, changing the topic. “A psychopath, twisted jerk who cannot even behave appropriately.”

“I-is that it? I think ther—”

Those were First Aid’s last words before his vision went black, and Sixshot’s surprised gasp echoed in his head.

* * *

Jazz was crawling steadily through the _Nemesis’_ all-too-small ventilation. It was still in active use, so Jazz was grateful because there was no more water here, but it increased the possibility of him being found. However, stealth was his middle name, Jazz smirked to himself, if he had any. He wouldn’t be found just because he was crawling through a ventilation.

 _Should’ve taken the left one earlier…_ he grumbled to himself. _Although, the brig’s also a good place to start._

Optimus told him to search for First Aid, or any information about him, in the _Nemesis_. And rumour had it that First Aid was being held in someone’s quarter. He didn’t want to think that it was Sixshot; it would be too dangerous. Besides, he didn’t think that the Decepticon Phase Sixer would have anything to do with prisoners, much less keep them. Other than for toys.

Just thinking of it made him shudder; First Aid was still very young, he didn’t deserve such fate.

And he didn’t understand Hot Spot’s request when he took off from the _Ark_. Please don’t hurt Sixshot…? What did that mean? Everyone wanted to do some damage to a Phase Sixer. Especially one whose alt modes were weapons of mass destruction.

 _The brig’s near_ , he looked up to a small viewing hole. He nearly laughed when he saw Megatron and Starscream was arguing yet again. _I’m in the throne room. It should be just one floor under this._

Next was just a corridor. He could get out and walk if he wanted to, but he decided not to because it would be too risky. This corridor would lead him to the brig, if he remember where the corridor hub that would lead him above the stairs was. He did not want to jump inside a petite vertical ventilation without making any noise, no thank you.

He heard Breakdown’s ragged vent in the corridor, running. Snickering, he counted five seconds before he heard Motormaster’s growl followed him.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

He laughed voicelessly as Motormaster chased after Breakdown. Well, this mission was quite a fun one. Jazz finally reached the ventilation hub, and chose the one that lead him to the stairs.

As he slid over the now wider ventilation, he could hear some voices talking. Were those the prisoners? He didn’t remember the Decepticons on Earth had any other than the possible First Aid.

But none of them sounded like First Aid.

“…didn’t know that! Frag yeah!”

That was Brawl. The tank’s unmistakably loud voice echoed in the ventilation.

“Stop it, Brawl! I hope you fix as good as you shoot.”

“Heh, you just don’t know me!”

Blitzwing was also under there. Jazz crawled a bit closer to hear their voices better. What were they fixing? He couldn’t get a view until he reached the end of the ventilation.

“Well, talking ‘bout rumours, you know about that ‘lil Autobot Megatron gave to Sixshot?” Brawl asked.

Jazz’s optiques widened behind his visor.

“Um, yeah. They’re on a mission.”

““They?””

“Apparently Sixshot was expected to bring him. Well, it means he can have fun with him in the trip. Lucky fragger.”

So, it was true that First Aid was kept in Sixshot’s quarter. And now, Sixshot was in a mission and he brought the medic with him. Trying not to snarl, Jazz kept listening.

“I was hoping I can have some fun with him.” Brawl sounded disappointed.

“Yeah, well, you can’t.”

“Is he cute?”

“Yep. I heard from Astrotrain. It’s one of the Protectobots, the medic.” Blitzwing paused a bit before replying. Was he lifting something heavy? “Push it.”

“I think I remember him.” Brawl then sounded like he was pushing something heavy. “Oh, anyway, did you watch last night’s boxing championship?”

“I didn’t. Caught up with something else…”

Jazz left them to their own, feeling that his search would be futile. First Aid wasn’t here, but he’d try not to go home empty handed.

Back in the throne room, Megatron and Starscream were talking about a new plan, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need more inspiration ,-,


	21. Dua Puluh

Spiderwebs were the first things he saw.

He tried to focus his vision, but unable to do so. His chest hurt, although his internal scan told him there were nothing too dangerous. It was mostly an aftershock.

What happened anyway?

“You are awake.”

Oh, his visor cracked.

He turned off his optiques again. It wasn’t comfortable for him to see with his visor cracked. “Y-yes.”

He didn’t know where was Sixshot, but he could feel warmth all around him. Was Sixshot cuddling him? He couldn’t know exactly but it felt very comfortable.

“Are you hurt?”

“M-mostly.” He sighed softly. He could hear rain was pouring a bit farther from them. “What h-happened?”

“Some creatures attacked us. They took you down. It was too far for us to return to the shuttle, so I found a cave for us to take shelter for a night.”

Oh, they were in a cave.

“Rest, now.” The Phase Sixer continued. “We’ll return tomorrow.”

First Aid settled back to his resting place, wanting more of that warmth around him. “Are you injured?”

Sixshot didn’t reply straight, but when he did, First Aid heard a little bit of lie. “Not much.”

Venting softly, the medic knew pushing him wouldn’t help. Instead, he curled himself and spoke softly, “Thank you.”

When he felt a snout brushing his cheek off, he knew he was sleeping on Sixshot’s wolf mode.

* * *

Blades hiccupped, then groaned. “‘M never drinking high grade… again.”

“You said that last time.” Groove replied, mumbling into the sofa. “An’ the time before.”

“Shut up.”

“Guys? I can’t feel my head anywhere.” Streetwise said.

Blades turned a bit. “It’s still attached.”

Groaning, Groove tried to sit up properly on the sofa. “Frag, what are we going to tell Hot Spot?”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Frag off, Groove.”

Checking the clock, Groove draped a servo over his face. It was past the end of the fire truck’s shift on the Ark. “It’s a quarter past nineteen. Hot Spot’s gonna kill us.”

“No he won’t.”

“You better think of an excuse now, Streetwise.”

“What? Why me? Why not Blades.”

“Because… it was _your_ idea?” Yes. Yes, it was, Blades thought.

“You were the one who agreed in the first place.”

“Let’s just hope Hot Spot was hanging out with Prowl or Silverbolt.”

Groove stood up, trying to stand properly and get to his own quarter. “Whatever, I’ll be on my room.”

“Wha—?! No! Groove, get back here and help me!”

“Frag off, Blades.”

“You won’t even be able to walk straight.”

“See m—”

Then the door to the rec room opened, and Hot Spot stood in the doorframe.

Groove could tell, with his glitching processor through the gestalt bond, that Hot Spot was in a rather giddy mood. But the smirk behind his masque faltered when he saw his team’s condition… and a pile of empty cubes on the table, and the smell of high grade in the air. Groove wanted the floor to open up and consume him.

Hot Spot facepalmed. “Whose idea is this?”

Accusations flung in the air like storms, and the previously quiet rec room instantly turned into a battlefield of words. Hot Spot wasn’t normally angry; he was trying to contain his anger to himself. But he didn’t particularly like his good emotion to be crushed down like… this.

He held up a hand, and everyone stopped. “Who was the one suggested this?”

Two hands pointed at Streetwise, who looked down sheepishly. “I thought we needed it.”

Resisting the urge to get a cube himself, Hot Spot sighed. Streetwise was right in a way. They had been rather uptight these days. Especially since First Aid had gone off planet. Hot Spot tried to take all matters with the Ark on his hands, but no matter he tried, his team still had to be summoned every time Optimus or Prowl called. It hadn’t been exactly three good weeks. And to make things worse, he hated to lie to Prowl. At least, not to Optimus.

“I know we did, but at least you could’ve taken less that… this?”

On the chair, Blades mumbled. “Groove brought more.”

“ _You_ told me to bring more.”

“Stop…!” Hot Spot said before things could go further. “Just…” he sighed. “Groove, I had taken you in charge. You’re coming to my quarter.”

Groove didn’t reply to that. He kept looking down guiltily to the floor.

Hot Spot lifted Streetwise to carry on his front, then, despite Blades’ pathetic attempts to try to walk on his own, piggybacked Blades.

“I didn’t remember you were this heavy, Blades.”

“…I didn’t remember either. I think I have four rotors now.”

“Frag off, Blades.” Streetwise muttered against the gestalt leader’s chest.

It was rather surprising that Groove was able to walk, although wobbly and had to take Hot Spot’s servo to stay stable. When they had put Blades and Streetwise to their respective rooms and reached Hot Spot’s room, Groove resisted the urge to just lay down on the berth and be done with today.

Of course he had to resist, because Hot Spot launched himself instead to the berth, taking all of it. He buried his face on the pillow. “I was just having a good time with Silverbolt.”

“…sorry.” Groove said pathetically.

Hot Spot turned, sighing. “Come here. I know you didn’t mean that, but today wasn’t exactly a good one to get the team overcharged. Especially when tomorrow’s Blade’s shift to patrol.”

“…I know, sorry.” Groove didn’t get closer to the berth. “It was Streetwise’s idea.”

“I’ll give him a telling off later. Here, now. You need some rest. We all do.”

Groove laid himself on the berth, then snuggled to the fire truck’s larger frame.

Hot Spot held him close. He knew his team wasn’t in its good shape. Streetwise couldn’t resist not to snap at some officers who irritated him. Groove kept cornering himself when he was needed in the Ark. And Hot Spot had to separate Blades from Slingshot, twice a day, so that they didn’t get to an argument. Optimus Prime and Silverbolt had been a good company for him, although he couldn’t help but to feel guilty every time Optimus spoke to him.

Groove shifted beside him; Hot Spot let him.

Who would be covering Blades’ patrol tomorrow?

* * *

The next day was relatively peaceful for them. Or rather, they were too weak even to get up from the berth so that they weren’t able to frag Hot Spot off. Blades, of course, didn’t wake up at six. And Hot Spot’s attempt to wake him up was met with a weak growl and mumbles. Streetwise didn’t prepare any breakfast. And Groove seemed so content on sleeping on his leader’s large berth.

So, yes. This was a very embarrassing way to start a new year.

Although, at the first day of January, Hot Spot recalled, his team had sulked off from the new year party held on the Ark.

Hot Spot was a bit grateful, though, because today meant his team wouldn’t do anything stupid. They would be on the base all day, resting—more like groaning all over and claiming they wouldn’t be drinking again, only to find themselves drink again at a later time—, and maybe watching TV. He had informed the head police officer that Streetwise was unable to report on duty today because he was, er, sick, and he had to rest for the day.

(no way he was to tell the head police officer that Streetwise was drunk his aft off last night, he didn’t imagine it would end in a good way with the human.)

So, he found himself patrolling, covering Blades’ shift up. Red Alert acknowledged it, and Prowl was okay with it. And again, Hot Spot was grateful that he had Silverbolt as company.

The sky seemed clear. When he was done patrolling in the city, he followed the road to the desert. Silverbolt, Fireflight, and Skyfire flew low above him, and when Silverbolt dispatched Fireflight and Skyfire to the western desert, they went away. Then, Hot Spot found himself alone with the jet.

“So, I thought you wouldn’t take Blades’ turn.” Silverbolt said, voice rich with amusement.

“I didn’t plan to, you know.” He replied. No one was there to hear a fire truck and a jet talking, was there? “But it seems my team just love to tease me that much.”

Silverbolt chuckled. “That happens with all gestalts. Not that there were many gestalts around.”

“How do you know?”

“First, personal experience. Second, I remember hearing a story when Jazz snuck up in the Combaticon’s base to find Onslaught facepalming so long and grumbling about beating the scrap out of his team.”

Hot Spot laughed softly at the mental image. Onslaught facepalming would be a funny sight.

“Nonetheless.” Silverbolt continued. “I know what you’re feeling.”

“I’m sure you do.”

They went through a rock formation, and still not detecting any Decepticon signal. There weren’t much Decepticon activities these days anyway. Hot Spot doubted they would find any.

Thinking about the Decepticons brought him to Sixshot, and Sixshot brought him to First Aid. He sighed, hoping that they were fine.

What? ‘They’? He hoped that _the medic_ was fine.

Okay, ‘they’. He couldn’t deny that he was a little bit worried about Sixshot. ‘Because who would protect First Aid out there? If even Sixshot was protecting him.’

“Anyway, still no info about First Aid?”

“No.” Hot Spot revved his engine softly. “We couldn’t just call Sixshot and ask about First Aid.” Because that would be awkward. “And there is no means of reaching them.”

Truthfully, he didn’t want to talk about First Aid right now. Thinking about it was hard enough.

“He’ll come back. I’m here if you need to talk.” Silverbolt reassured him. “So, a race?”

“If you mean you wouldn’t leave me here whilst you fly away, okay.”

Silverbolt laughed.


	22. Dua Puluh Satu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to Train your Sixshot. Warning: fluff and river.

Finding their way back to the shuttle was hard enough with First Aid limping on the way. Sixshot had to carry him, to the medic’s dismay, but he found the Phase Sixer not complaining at all. With all the wounds Sixshot had, First Aid was sure he had to fix him first before the wounds become too critical… and it brought back some memories.

Even in his wolf mode, Sixshot was still taller than him. The medic sill dared not touch—or, er, pet—him, though, like those cats Groove so fond of. It wasn’t that he knew better than to do so, but because he was afraid he’d worsen the damages. And really, the Phase Sixer acted like he was being too paranoid, or overprotective of him. He growled at every creature that passed them like they were going to jump on the both of them any minute. First Aid thought more of the latter, although it would be more… selfish. And, Phase Sixers didn’t get ‘paranoid’; they had no reason to.

His own damage was not critical, only a few panel was off, cracked visor and dented masque, and his leg joint was sore. But those wouldn’t take long to recover. He’d be walking straight again tomorrow, if he was well.

But Sixshot wasn’t. He got a few large scars on his side, his snout was leaking, and his hind right paw was dented. From the looks of things, maybe the Phase Sixer was fighting in his wolf mode. He managed to patch himself and the wolf briefly with his medical kit, but he needed the equipments in the shuttle. And fast, because he didn’t want to lose the only friend he had here.

Strange; ‘friend’ felt wrong about their current relationship now. They weren’t lovers, weren’t they? At least, not in First Aid’s mind?

 _No, this wasn’t the time to think of that_.

The forest floor was crowded with tree roots making their way off the ground. Aid didn’t exactly remember whether this was the way they took before, but he supposed Sixshot knew. He was not keen on getting lost in a jungle where every tree was taller than even the Lady Liberty and thicker than a usual Earthian business building.

Wait, the trees back there weren’t _this_ big, were they?

Sixshot walked a bit further, and they reached a large field with mountainous landscape, and a river. It seemed they had arrived to the end of the forest. The river was flowing smoothly through giant rocks, the sound of water flowing and the landscape made the medic felt homesick, and calmed at the same time. First Aid stepped down from the wolf, looking at the scene. This was _beautiful_.

And this reminded him much of Earth, too. And his brothers. He remembered the trip his team had taken when they were still getting to know Earth. Hot Spot chuckled softly over Groove and Streetwise, Blades helped him to try to catch a fish.

The medic tried to walk by his own, but ended up walking next to Sixshot, using him to help himself. They stopped near the river, and Sixshot laid there. First Aid took a moment to lean against him, careful of his wounds. The Phase Sixer was purring softly, ventilating rather hard, head down, obvious signs of exhaustion. The medic felt guilty at that.

“I didn’t remember this river.” Sixshot said, red optiques glowing dim, looking at him.

First Aid absent-mindedly patted the wolf. “I didn’t either.”

“Maybe we took a wrong way.”

“I hope not, but I’m glad we didn’t get lost in the forest.”

Sixshot looked over to the forest. The trees were making some kind of barrier between the field and the mountains. The mountains themselves stood majestically to the heavens, their snowy white peaks disappeared to the clouds above. A path was visible to them across the river. This was too beautiful to be such a dangerous planet.

And the water; First Aid stood up, walked to the river. It was clean. Some water creatures swam in it. The riverbed was clearly visible; it wasn’t so deep near the ground, and composed mostly of rocks. He took the not-so-functioning-anymore scanner out and scanned the water. The medic stepped into it, sighing as he did. The water was warm and contained nothing suspicious. Nearly like that on Earth.

Sixshot, who had been watching the medic the entire time, chuckled lowly when he saw him going into the water. He walked closer to the river, checking the water himself as if the water could make them rust the moment he stepped into it. And of course, it didn’t, as the medic began to wash the energon off his hands and clean himself.

“Is it safe if I come in?”

First Aid turned, then nodded brightly. “Yes. It’s also warm.”

Stepping into the water, Sixshot cringed a bit when the change of temperature stung his wounded paw, but it lessened and he braced himself for more stings on his wounds. Eventually, he leant against a rock and lowered his frame into the water, and allowed it to clean his wounds. His snout wasn’t leaking anymore, and he was glad of it. He closed his optiques, enjoying the water that seemed to caress his plating and cables and enter his seams.

“Sixshot? Do they feel better?”

He turned, then sighed. “Yes.”

First Aid smiled, then settling himself next to the Phase Sixer. “Let’s rest for a few more minutes.”

Sixshot laid his head back down.

* * *

At the start of the second month, Hot Spot felt like a turtle.

Beachcomber showed him some when they were patrolling on the beaches of South America. He was amazed by the creature, having to carry such a heavy burden on its back without being able to take it off.

However, Hot Spot was often having a backache. His team, mainly Blades, seemed to love to give him something else to do than what he was supposed to do. He had to talk to Silverbolt to keep Slingshot away from Blades, a thing he didn’t exactly like, but noting what they would do when there was no one around, he thought it was the best choice.

He didn’t know whether this was caused by a constant ache on the gestalt bond. Longing for someone lost.

Tiredly, he walked to the _Ark_ ’s rec room. For once, there weren’t a lot of people there. Jazz, Blaster, and Hoist were in the corner, talking about something, and, surprisingly, there were Perceptor and Wheeljack in the opposite side.

He took his usual ration from the dispenser and sat down, away from the rest. The berth seemed so appealing to him, but Optimus was waiting for him in his room after the meeting. And the meeting took a long time.

He had talked to Ratchet earlier about his tired frame. And the CMO gave him some advice to handling his team. He didn’t know where did Ratchet got it, but he supposed being the de facto mum of the Dinobots had some perks.

“Go and get some rest.” Ratchet said. “Don’t do much works. I’ll tell Optimus if you want to take some day-offs.”

And Hot Spot thought… he might as well take some. No reports to be filled, no patrolling, no taking Blades off from Slingshot, just him and his room, preferably the whole HQ if his team were busy.

For once, he wanted to be a little bit selfish.

“Looks like you’re ready to fall over.”

Hot Spot looked up with tired, dimmed optiques; Silverbolt was walking to him, then sat on the opposite chair, a small smile on his faceplate.

“To fall over is a bit of an understatement.”

Silverbolt laughed softly. “So, I thought you’re done after the medbay.”

“I was, but Optimus called me.” He drank his cube. “And although Ratchet told him that I need some rest, he said this will be quick, and it’s important.”

“Yeah, I can tell it’ll be quick.”

Hot Spot gave him a funny look, as if he was offended by someone insulting Optimus Prime like that. Yes, Optimus had a habit of prolonging things sometimes, but rarely. Silverbolt should know better than that.

“I mean, not that Optimus won’t be quick, but you, er,” the jet scratched the back of his helm. “you look so tired I’m afraid it won’t be something quick for you.”

Hot Spot still gave him a blank stare.

Silverbolt smiled nervously. “Oh, c’mon. You know what I mean. I went through that too with Prowl after some missions.”

The fire truck titled his head, his optiques weren’t even as dim as before, which to Silverbolt seemed dangerously like those expressionless psychopaths he and his team watched last night.

“Don’t give me that look! Primus, your processors are more fragged up that I thought!” he drank from his cube. “Just, lemme tell Optimus you’re so tired you can’t even get off the sofa.”

“No, you don’t!”

“Now you respond me.” Silverbolt sighed. He pushed his hand to the fire truck. “Tell me, how much do I have?”

“Er, three?”

“See? This is why you should go get some rest.”

Hot Spot finished his cube and slumped on the table. “My team’s been killing me. I don’t know how much lives do I have.”

“I know that part.” replied Silverbolt. “They can be jerks sometimes.”

“They?”

“Yours and mine. And the others’ too, believe me.”

“The others’?”

“You know, Onslaught’s, Scrapper’s, and even Grimlock’s sometimes.”

“The gestalts?”

“Of course.” Silverbolt finished his cube, then stood up to put his and Hot Spot’s to the corner. “Seriously, Hot Spot, this is more than just backache you told me yesterday. Did you sleep last night?”

Hot Spot looked up. “Can’t. I went to patrol instead.”

“You tried forced recharge?”

“Don’t want to. My head hurt sometimes after.”

Silverbolt looked at him, then sat next to him, cradling Hot Spot’s head to make him lay on his back on the sofa. “You sleep, I’ll wake you up when Optimus calls you.”

Tiredly, Hot Spot just complied. “Thanks.” he said in low voice.

“Welcome. Now rest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frag! I didn't know college life is so busy!


	23. Dumb chapter - there's nothing here

i told you there is nothing here


End file.
